The door to Mina's rooms opened, admitting a woman of about forty years. The visitor stood for a moment, looking uncertainly from side to side, a scrap of paper clutched in her hand.

Mina rose from her armchair by the fire and approached her guest. "Good day to you, madam. I take it I have the pleasure of addressing Mrs Wainwright?"

The visitor nodded. "You do indeed, miss. I'm afraid you have the advantage of me."

Mina bobbed a quick curtsey. "I am Miss Wilhelmina Fitz-Damore, the proprietress of Artemis Detection Agency."

Mrs Wainwright could scarcely conceal her surprise. "You? Beggin' your pardon, miss, but when I heard you were a lady detective, I wasn't picturin' someone quite so… so… young." Her eyes took in the girl before her.

Wilhelmina Fitz-Damore was a strikingly pretty young woman. Just as striking was her apparent lack of concern with her looks, which only served to draw more attention to them. Her hair, golden as ripe wheat, was drawn back into a simple bun, with no braids, ringlets or other frivolities. Her eyes were a rich blue, and her complexion was warm and spotless. Her features were not quite in vogue in London of that era, where an infantile face, small-chinned and huge-eyed, was all the rage. There was a certain strength to her countenance, a stubbornly defined jaw, a chiselled nose, which gave her a statuesque kind of beauty, of that type found in Roman sculptures.

Mina smiled. "Mrs Wainwright, I understand that my youth may speak against my ability. But I pray you, give me a chance. I ask for no deposit. You shall not pay for my services unless you are entirely satisfied with them. Come, let us sit by the fire. I've kept you on your feet long enough."

Mina chivvied Mrs Wainwright into an armchair, before settling down across from her. "Will you take some tea?"

"No thank you, miss," said Mrs Wainwright. "I have to return to my work within an hour. I hope I didn't offend you. I didn't mean to call your skills into question."

Mina assured her that no offence was taken.

Mrs Wainwright continued, "It was my friend Maggie Fenton who put me onto you. She says you were able to do right by her boy Chip, when he got picked up for thievin', and no one else would take her serious. She says you got him out and cleared his name an' all."

"It is a sad fact," said Mina, "that our system of justice often punishes the innocent alongside the guilty. If I was able to make some small difference in that case, I was merely doing my civic duty as a concerned member of the public. But let us speak of the difficulty that you are experiencing, madam?"

Mrs Wainwright wrung her hands. "My daughter," she said tearfully, "my only girl Charlotte, has gone missin'! She was at a finishin' school to improve herself, and the instructor says she ran away with a young man! I'm ashamed to even speak the words before you, miss, truly I am."

"And I take it you have your own suspicions?"

"Charlotte would never do nothin' like that, miss! She was engaged to be wed to a young man called Nathan from Dockside. He's a good lad, he didn't even ask her to give up her schoolin' and her desire to better herself. I know my girl, and I know she loved Nate. He's absolutely heartbroken. He went round the school askin' questions, but a couple of the big men they have up there threw him out, said they'd call the police if they saw 'im on the premises again!"

"And have you spoken to the police?"

"They wouldn't hear me out, miss. They said girls run away all the time, made it out that I never raised Charlotte properly, that she was some sort of harlot. They told me to my face, my daughter probably gives her favours away to any lad that sweet talks her, and they said it in the station in front of all those people! I almost lost my temper with 'em, not that it'd have done any good. I'm too ashamed to go back, miss."

Mina took up a writing pad and a pen. "If you will bear with me, madam, I must ask you a few questions. When did you last see your daughter?"

"Monday of this week."

"At what time?"

"The usual time… she left the house in the morning, as she always did, either for work or her schoolin'. She was going to school that day…" Mrs Wainwright had to dab at her eyes, which were welling with fresh tears.

"And since that time, you have neither seen nor heard of her?"

"No."

"Did anything unusual occur on the day she disappeared? Did her behaviour seem out of character?"

"No, only… well, she was very tired that morning. She has been out of sorts for a while."

Mina looked up sharply. "Tell me about this tiredness. You say it was not new? When did you first notice it?"

"I suppose… oh, about three months ago? She had been workin' off on and for a while, had our Charlotte. She'd always been a healthy girl, cheerful, enthusiastic, full of vigour. Hardly caught a cold in her life. That's why I thought it was so odd that she should lose her strength at a time like this. But it had started about the same time as she enrolled in her finishin' school, and she put it down to overwork. She wouldn't hear of stoppin' her studies. "'Once I'm wed,' she says, 'I won't have to work so hard, as Nate will support me, and I want to have fine manners and be a lady, and be a credit to him and to you, Mum.' Ah, she's a good girl, she is."

Mina's pen scribbled extra fast on the page. "Very well, madam. Did you bring a photograph and description of your daughter?"

"I did, miss." These were extracted from Mrs Wainwright's bag and placed upon the table.

"And what did you say was the name of the school Miss Charlotte was attending?"

"Ténébreux Academy."

Mina's mouth tightened grimly. "I see. Mrs Wainwright, I believe I have enough to go on with for the moment. I must counsel you to be patient. You must bear in mind that nothing can be guaranteed in cases of this nature. Yet I assure you that I will exhaust every means available in obtaining answers regarding your daughter."

Fresh tears welled in Mrs Wainwright's eyes, and her face shone with hope commingled with dread. "Then," she exclaimed, "you'll take the case? And you… believe me? You don't think Charlotte ran away?"

"I do not, Mrs Wainwright. I think it far more likely that your instincts are correct, and that some misfortune has befallen your daughter."

Mrs Wainwright's countenance became paler still. "But… oh! What do you think happened to her? Who could have taken her? And… and why?"

"That I cannot say, madam. Experience has taught me that evil walks this Earth, oftentimes wearing the faces of ordinary men and women. It would be irresponsible of me to give you false assurances. There is much danger here. And yet we must not lose hope. We must be prepared to face the shadows, and where there is darkness we must bring light…" Mina trailed away, her gaze softening, as if she were seeing something far away, or recalling a memory from a distant past.

Later, when Mrs Wainwright had taken her leave, Mina stood before her writing desk, filing away some of her notes. News bulletins and pamphlets were scattered across the desk's surface, bearing curious headlines: "CHEAPSIDE BUTCHER STRIKES AGAIN!", "FOUL MIASMA POISONS DOZENS," "BEAST OF BROADSIDE SIGHTED AT FULL MOON," "CURSE OF DRUIDS STRIKES CANTERBURY," "SUNDERLAND WOMAN GIVES BIRTH TO GOBLIN."

Taking an iron key from her dress pocket, Mina unlocked a small drawer and drew out a mahogany box, which she unclosed with yet another key. Raising the lid, she withdrew a small pistol, examined it carefully, and concealed it about her person.

A soft footstep alighted on the window-sill, so soft that it should have eluded human hearing. Yet Mina's head rose slightly, and she smiled.

"Hello, Artemis," she said. "I take it you were listening?"

The object of her query was a cat of singular appearance, which now occupied the window-sill. It was very large, and sported a pure-white coat, white as moonlight, with no blemishes or markings, save for a single crescent-shaped patch on its brow. Its strikingly blue eyes had unusually formed irids, less slit-like than those typical of its race, and more rounded, giving the beast an eerily humanoid gaze.

"Yes," said the feline, in perfect human speech. "This is a bad business. They are getting bolder."

"Indeed," said Mina, wrapping herself in an overcoat. "And so must we." She popped a bonnet on her fair head, opened the door to the hallway, and stepped out. The cat stretched languidly for a moment, cleaning his paw, before he turned and sprang from the window-sill, and glided across the rooftops like a white shadow.