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Mary Greene's neighborhood。 She recalled the note； written in blood。 Mary Greene had known she was going to die。 Her want had been simple： not to die in plete anonymity。
Pendergast gently took her arm。 〃e；〃 he said。
She did not shrug him off。 He spoke again to the shopkeeper； took the tea with a slight bow； and in a moment they were outside on the crowded street。 They walked down Mott； crossing first Bayard； then Chatham Square； entering into a maze of dark narrow streets abutting the East River。 The noise and bustle of Chinatown gave way to the silence of industrial buildings。 The sun had set； leaving a glow in the sky that barely outlined the tops of the buildings。 Reaching Catherine Street； they turned southeast。 Nora glanced over curiously as they passed Henry and the site of Moegen…Fairhaven's new residential tower。 The excavation was much bigger now； massive foundations and stem walls rose out of the gloom； rebar popping like reeds from the freshly poured concrete。 Nothing was left of the old coal tunnel。
Another few minutes； and they were on Water Street。 Old manufacturing buildings； warehouses； and decrepit tenements lined the street。 Beyond； the East River moved sluggishly； dark purple in the moonlight。 The Brooklyn Bridge loomed almost above them； and to its left； the Manhattan Bridge arced across the dark river； its span of brilliant lights reflected in the water below。
Near Market Slip； Pendergast stopped in front of an old tenement。 It was still inhabited： a single window glowed with yellow light。 A metal door was set into the first…floor facade。 Beside it was a dented inter and a series of buttons。
〃Here it is；〃 said Pendergast。 〃Number sixteen。〃
They stood in the gathering darkness。
Pendergast began to speak quietly in the gloom。 〃Mary Greene came from a working…class family。 After her father's upstate farm failed； he brought his family down here。 He worked as a stevedore on the docks。 But both he and Mary's mother died in a minor cholera epidemic when the girl was fifteen。 Bad water。 She had a younger brother： Joseph； seven； and a younger sister： Constance； five。〃
Nora said nothing。
〃Mary Greene tried to take in washing and sewing； but apparently it wasn't enough to pay the rent。 There was no other work； no way to earn money。 They were evicted。 Mary finally did what she had to do to support her younger siblings； whom she evidently loved very much。 She became a prostitute。〃
〃How awful；〃 Nora murmured。
〃That's not the worst。 She was arrested when she was sixteen。 It was probably at that point her two younger siblings became street children。 They called them guttersnipes in those days。 There's no more record of them in any city files； they probably starved to death。 In 1871 it was estimated there were twenty…eight thousand homeless children living on the streets of New York。 In any case； later Mary was sent to a workhouse known as the Five Points Mission。 It was basically a sweatshop。 But it was better than prison。 On the surface； that would have seemed to be Mary Greene's lucky break。〃
Pendergast fell silent。 A barge on the river gave out a distant； mournful bellow。
〃What happened to her then？〃
〃The paper trail ends at the lodging house door；〃 Pendergast replied。
He turned to her； his pale face almost luminous in the gloaming。 〃Enoch Leng…Doctor Enoch Leng…placed himself and his medical expertise at the service of the Five Points Mission as well as the House of Industry； an orphanage that stood near where Chatham Square is today。 He offered his time pro bono。 As we know； Dr。 Leng kept rooms on the top floor of Shottum's Cabinet throughout the 1870s。 No doubt he had a house somewhere else in the city。 He affiliated himself with the two workhouses about a year before Shottum's Cabinet burned down。〃
〃We already know from Shottum's letter that Leng mitted those murders。〃
〃No question。〃
〃Then why do you need my help？〃
〃There's almost nothing on record about Leng anywhere。 I've tried the Historical Society； the New York Public Library； City Hall。 It's as if he's been expunged from the historical record； and I have reason to think Leng himself might have eradicated his files。 It seems that Leng was an early supporter of the Museum and an enthusiastic taxonomist。 I believe there may be more papers in the Museum concerning Leng； at least indirectly。 Their archives are so vast and disorganized that it would be virtually impossible to purge them。〃
〃Why me？ Why doesn't the FBI just subpoena the files or something？〃
〃Files have a way of disappearing as soon as they are officially requested。 Even if one knew which files to request。 Besides； I've seen how you operate。 That kind of petence is rare。〃
Nora merely shook her head。
〃Mr。 Puck has been； and no doubt will continue to be； most helpful。 And there's something else。 Tinbury McFadden's daughter is still alive。 She lives in an old house in Peekskill。 She's ninety…five； but I understand very much pos mentis。 She may have a lot to say about her father。 She may have even known Leng。 I have a sense she'd be more willing to speak to a young woman like yourself than to an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation。〃
〃You've still never really explained why you've taken such an interest in this case。〃
〃The reasons for my interest in the case are unimportant。 What is important is that a human being should not be allowed to get away with a crime like this。 Even if that person is long dead。 We do not forgive or forget Hitler。 It's important to remember。 The past is part of the present。 At the moment； in fact； it's all too much a part of the present。〃
〃You're talking about these two new murders。〃 The whole city was buzzing with the news。 And the same words seemed to be on everyone's lips： copycat killer。
Pendergast nodded silently。
〃But do you really think the murders are connected？ That there's some madman out there who read Smithback's article； and is now trying to duplicate Leng's experiments？〃
〃I believe the murders are connected； yes。〃
It was now dark。 Water Street and the piers beyond were deserted。 Nora shuddered again。 〃Look； Mr。 Pendergast； I'd like to help。 But it's like I said。 I just don't think there's anything more I can do for you。 Personally； I think you'd do better to investigate the new murders； not the old。〃
〃That is precisely what I am doing。 The solution to the new murders lies in the old。〃
She looked at him curiously。 〃How so？〃
〃Now is not the time； Nora。 I don't have sufficient information to answer； not yet。 In fact； I may have already said too much。〃
Nora sighed with irritation。 〃Then I'm sorry； but the bottom line is that I simply can't afford to put my job in jeopardy a second time。 Especially without more information。 You understand； don't you？〃
There was a moment's silence。 〃Of course。 I respect your decision。〃 Pendergast bowed slightly。 Somehow； he managed to give even this simple gesture a touch of elegance。
Pendergast asked the driver to let him out a block from his apartment building。 As the Rolls…Royce glided silently away； Pendergast walked down the pavement； deep in thought。 After a few minutes he stopped； staring up at his residence： the Dak