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No, Electra thought. Not the way it needed to. “I’m so sorry.”

“Was there nothing you saw that could help Sergeant Hardy?”

“I will tell him what I saw. I promise. Here is her comb back.” Electra returned the comb to Mrs. Collier. “It is very beautiful.”

She smiled as she took it into her hands, stroking her fingers over the little flowers etched into the tortoiseshell. “You might wonder why I have this, as it was a gift to Calliope. She had gone off and become quite independent in the last year. Sometimes we rowed about it, and when we did, she would stay away for months at a time.”

Mr. Collier reached out and patted his wife’s hand.

“Four months before her death. Well, we exchanged harsh words, and it was the last time she was in our home. I sent her that comb on her birthday just a month previous, but she left it when she departed.”

Mr. Collier cleared his throat. “To lose her when we weren’t even on speaking terms makes the heart sore.”

Electra felt suddenly curious what might have caused an argument that would keep Calliope away from her parents for months. “May I ask an indelicate question?”

Mrs. Collier blinked at her, curious. “Ask us anything, Miss Poole.”

“The argument you had with her, what was it about?”

The couple exchanged a searching look, then Mr. Collier gave his wife the slightest of nods.

“There were rumors that we heard from friends of hers that she had several admirers,” Mrs. Collier began, “and the word was that she was carrying on with some of them.”

Mr. Collier winced but nodded his head.

“I told her she would end up in a delicate condition,” Mrs. Collier said with a glance to her husband. “Or one man would get jealous of the others.”

Mrs. Collier had begun crying again, and Mr. Collier looked at her with a tender kind of sympathy, patting her hand.

Mr. Collier drew a breath and fixed his gaze on Electra. “She said she had a protector, and he would never let anything happen to her. She never mentioned his name. And we have told Sergeant Hardy this.”

Mrs. Collier added, “She mentioned that he was a learned fellow. Seemed very proud of that fact.”

“Someone at the museum?” Electra asked, thinking of Kerrigan.

“I asked her straight out if it was a gent at the museum. She said the boy there was not fit to shine her boots. So I take it there was a young man there that she didn’t particularly like.”

“Yes,” Electra agreed. “I think I know who that is, and Sergeant Hardy is aware of him too.”

“Obviously, she was wrong, wasn’t she?” Mr. Collier asked wearily. “This protector did nothing of the sort.”

After another moment, Mrs. Collier whispered, “We should go, Daniel. Thank you for the tea, Miss Poole, and for trying to help us.”

Trying and failing. That’s what it felt like to Electra. She had used her abilities more in the last few days than she had in her entire life, and still it had not led them to the man who was destroying young women’s lives. Or to Iris, who might still be alive, hoping someone would find her.

Electra led them to the front door and offered them a calling card from her skirt pocket. “I know I didn’t help you in the way you hoped, but if you ever need anything at all, please feel free to call upon me.”

“Thank you, Miss Poole. You’ve been very kind to see us unexpectedly and to use your gifts to try to help us.”

After they departed, Electra re-entered the sitting room feeling slightly numb and a little dazed. Lack of sleep, perhaps. Though Gideon’s bed had been comfortable, and the scent of him and his aftershave had been a comfort, she’d been plagued with nightmares about Iris Delacourt and Calliope Collier. She dreamed that Iris was in a box, hidden away. A box that she couldn’t get out of. Bare wood walls. No light. Utter darkness.

The clock on the mantel struck the top of the hour, and she realized that Gideon would be coming soon, and then they could speak to Kerrigan again.

Collier’s description of an educated protector brought the British Museum Keeper to mind, but Wakefield had spent time in Calliope’s lodgings. Had he encountered her there? Had they formed some kind of secret liaison, as he had with Iris?

Could he be the man she’d seen in Calliope’s memory?

He would certainly have access to a sharp knife. A scalpel would have a small, short blade. If they didn’t find anything more that led them to suspect Kerrigan, she would ask Gideon if they could go back and speak to Tristan Wakefield once more. She would insist on touching him or some belonging of his. If he refused, she would go to Violet, who would likely be willing to share something with them.