Gladys gasped and skidded to a halt. She turned to run back the way she came, but the carriage had already pulled up to the curb, blocking her path. Two more men jumped down.
"Going somewhere, miss?" Finch asked. His voice was like grinding stones.
"Please," Gladys whispered, backing against the brick wall. "I have no money. I am just a girl."
"We don't want your money," Finch said, stepping closer. He loomed over her, blocking out the little light that was left in the sky. "Our mistress wants a word."
"Who is your mistress?" Gladys cried out.
"Someone who is very interested in the books your master or should I say mistress writes. The very person you are trying to protect." Finch said.
He reached out. His hand was enormous.
Gladys tried to scream. "HELP!!!" But he covered her mouth with a rough cloth.
"Quiet now," Finch growled. "Or you won't live to tell the story."
