Secret Night by Anita Mills

return to the matter at hand. "But if ye was ter do right by me, why I'd be real fergitful, ye understand. I'd—" Her tongue felt too thick for speech. "I'd not tell the magistrate what I know."
    "Why, you old tart—you miserable old tart," he sneered, shaking his head. "There's none as would believe you."
    "Tart is as may be, ye old devil. At least I ain't killed a body, which is—" She stopped to pull at her tongue.
    He looked around uneasily, then laughed harshly. "If you was to tell a constable, you'd be clapped up in Bedlam for sayin' it was me—aye, there ain't a man in London as would believe you. I got money, Maddie, and money buys anything I was to want I could snap m'fingers, and they'd a be putting you away— away, Maddie."
    "Ain't anything as says I got ter tell—I might, and I might not, ye know." This time when she dipped her opium spoon, her hand was almost too heavy to lift. "Ye see, I might be persuaded ter keep what I know close—real close—ter me. Then ye could be knowin' yer secret was safe within me bosom." "I ain't your mark, Maddie."
    "Fer a bit o' yer money," she went on, " Maddie'd fergit as how ye treated me gels—-or what ye wanted from Peg, don't ye see? Aye, ye do, don't ye? And I figger I got the blunt comin' as 'twas me that nearly went ter the Nubbing Cheat for what ye done."
    For a long moment he glowered at her, then spat out, "How much? How much was you wanting?"
    "Fer five thousand quid, I'd be real quietlike—why, m'lips'd be tight shut, they would. Aye, be a sort of justice fer Peg, wouldn't it? Ye'd be a-paying fer what ye did ter her."
    "I ain't the fool as you'd take me for, Maddie. Why, there's none as would believe such a tale," he said again.
    "But being a respectable gent, ye'd not be a-wantin' 'em ter ask ye about it, would ye?" She closed her mouth around the spoon and sucked on it, scarce tasting the bitterness. " 'Tis good, it is," she said thickly, "but next time I'd have—more sugar in it. Got too much opium—" She was feeling it now, the lethargy that wanted to overwhelm her. "Where was we? Oh—money. Aye-—money, it was." She dropped her spoon onto the table. "Mebbe they won't believe me, but when there's more gels in th' river, mebbe they'd remember, eh?"
    "You'd not stop at five thousand, you old bitch."
    "If they wasn't findin' more, I would." It was getting hard to speak, and her limbs seemed to be going numb. "Don't know if I was ter want more o' this," she mumbled. "Real good, but—" As she said it, she felt an enveloping dizziness. "Pure," she decided. "Too pure."
    "I brought you what you was askin' for, Maddie."
    His voice seemed to be coming from a distance, whispering to her brain. "Too strong by half," she gasped. "Too—strong—by—half."
    "You ain't used to the good stuff, eh? Perhaps you would wish for more?" he asked, pushing the remainder of the cake toward her. "Here—you got it all, Maddie—all."
    "Cannot—" This time, when she blinked her eyes, they did not want to open. "Sleepy—too sleepy." Her shoulders slumped forward, then she managed to lift her head back one last time. "Too much."
    Again, she felt the overwhelming weakness, and she knew she could not fight it. Her head was heavy, her mind confused, and as the blackness enveloped her, she was unable to cry out for help. She scarce felt it when he reached across the table to fold her arms and ease her head onto them.
    "Old whore," he muttered contemptuously.
    He glanced furtively around them, but most were too befuddled with drug to note anything. Rising carefully, he bent as though he would speak to Maddie, then he straightened, pulled his hooded cloak closer, and went to the door. The big man there glanced to where Maddie Coates seemingly dreamed over her opium, and he shook his head.
    "Have ter carry 'er home, eh?"
    The hooded man handed him a guinea. "Mrs. Coates said you was to buy a pipe while you wait fer her." He looked back, shaking his head. "It might be hours ere she