"Be still, my child. I do not want to hurt you." He unbuttoned his pants with one hand and raised the hem of her dress with the other. "All those years apart I thought of you. You remained in my mind just as you are now. When I saw what you'd become in my absence, I wept. No longer. You've been restored to me, just as beautiful as I remembered."
"No, don't do this. Please," Prudence said. Across the chamber, Wendell saw her tears sparkling in the torchlight. "Someone help me! Help me!"
"Excuse me, sir, can you help me?" Wendelle asks the stranger in the black coat. "I'm terribly hungry and I've no place to stay. Can you spare any change?"
In the two weeks since leaving Mother's house, she's used up all of Isabelle's money since reaching Glasgow. No one will hire her, saying she's too small, weak, and ignorant for work. The last three days she's eaten only rancid scraps from the garbage. Her stomach pains her every waking moment and in her dreams, she's tormented by imaginary feasts that disappear before she can taste anything.
Her hand trembles as she holds it out to the gentleman in the black coat. She's asked dozens of people passing by along the docks and received nothing. He turns to her with a leer on his face and a schilling in his hand. He dangles it over her head as he says, "What'll you do to earn it?"
"I don't know," she says.
He grabs her by the hair, pulling her head back so their eyes meet. "I'm sure you can think of something," he says.
"Oh, please, sir, no. I'm sorry I bothered you. I better be going now," she says. She tries to escape his grip, but he maintains his hold.
He waves the schilling before her eyes. "Don't you want this? I'd say for someone as ugly as you it's a fair price."
"Please sir, let me go. I've made a mistake."
"In that case, maybe I'll take what I want for free." He drops the schilling into his pocket and then clamps the hand over Wendelle's mouth. He drags her into an alley, throwing her down into a puddle of water.
From his belt he produces a knife with a dozen marks notched on the blade. "Let's get these rags off you," he says. Under the spell of the knife, Wendelle is unable to move as he slices the front of her dress down the center. He peels the halves away and laughs.
"What's this?" he says. "What kind of trick are you playing on me, boy?"