"She's looking for the one who can bring the magic back to its full glory. The one with the power to take her in, to take her to the Temple. That is what she has always wanted," she whispers."No, no, no, no!" she shouts to the air.

"Miss Hawkins," I ask, trying to lead her back to the subject at hand."Was it Miss McCleethy? Was she there? Is she Circe? You can tell me."

Nell bends my head to hers till our foreheads touch, her tiny hand surprisingly strong on the back of my neck. The skin of her palm

is rough as burlap. "Don't let her in, Lady Hope." Is that an answer? Nell continues in hushed tones. "The creatures will do anything to control you. Make you see things. Hear things. You must keep them out."

I want free of that tiny hand that frightens me with its hidden strength. But I am afraid to move."Miss Hawkins, please, do you know where I can find the Temple?"

"You must follow the true path." Here we are again. "There are hundreds of paths. I don't know which one you mean."

"It is where you least expect it. It hides in plain sight. You must look and you will see it, see it, see, sea, it came up from the sea, from the sea." Her eyes widen. "I saw you! I'm sorry, sorry, sorry!"

I'm losing her again. "What happened to the other girls, Nell?"

She starts to whimper like a wounded animal. "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault!"

"Miss Hawkins . . . Nell, it is all right. I've seen them, in my visions. I've seen your friends. . . ."

She snarls at me then, with such a fury I am afraid she might kill me. "They are not my friends! Not my friends at all!"

"But they are trying to help."

She backs away from me, screaming. "What have you done? What have you done?"

Alarmed, a nurse leaves her post by the door, making straight for us.

"Miss Hawkins, please--I didn't mean--"

"Shhh! They're listening at keyholes! They will hear us!" Nell says, running back and forth, arms folded over her chest.

"There is no one, Miss Hawkins. It is just you and I. . . ."

She doubles back, crouching low at my knees, a feral thing. "They will see into my mind!"

"M-Miss Hawkins . . . N-Nell . . . ," I stammer. But she is lost to me.

"Little Miss Mu fet sat on a tu fet eating her curds and whey." she shouts, looking around as if speaking to an unseen audience in the airing yards. "When along came a spider and sat down beside her and frightened Miss Mu fet away."

With that, she jumps and runs to the waiting nurse, who ushers her inside, leaving me alone in the cold with more questions than before. Nell's behavior, the sudden menace, has left me very troubled. I don't understand what she means or what has upset her so. I had hoped Nell would provide knowledge about Circe and the Temple. But Nell Hawkins, I must remember, is also living at Bedlam. She is a girl whose mind has been frayed by guilt and trauma. I don't know who or what to believe anymore.

Mrs. Sommers returns and sits beside me on the bench, smiling in her uncomfortable way. In the bald patches of her sparse eyebrows, the skin glows red.

"Is this all a dream?" she asks me.

"No, Mrs. Sommers," I answer, gathering my things.

"She lies, you know."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

Those plucked brows give Mrs. Sommers a disturbing appearance, like some demon unleashed from a medieval painting."I hear them. They talk to me, tell me things."

"Mrs. Sommers, who talks to you and tells you things?"

"They do," she says, as if I should understand. "They've told me. She's not what she seems. Such wicked things she's done. She's in league with the bad ones, miss. I hear her in her room at night. Such wicked, wicked things. Watch yourself, miss. They're coming

for you. They're all coming for you."

Mrs. Sommers grins, showing teeth too tiny for her mouth.

Shoving the newspaper clippings into my handbag, I back away and bolt inside, walking briskly through the halls, past the sewing classes and the tuneless piano and the squawkings of Cassandra. I pick up speed till I am nearly in a run. By the time I reach the carriage and Kartik, I am completely out of breath.

"Miss Doyle, what is the matter? Where is your brother?" he says, glancing nervously around.

"He says ... to come back ... for him," I say in bursts.

"What's the matter? You're flushed. I'll take you home." "No. Not there. I need to speak with you. Alone."