William Clarence Verity, Sergeant in 'A' Division of the Metropolitan Police, has seen most of the horrors of the nineteenth century, from the stews of Seven Dials to the prisons of the maharajahs. Now he is sent to the United States, to a nation on the brink of civil war, to guard two of his country's most precious possessions: her good name, and the heir to the throne. Both are threatened by Verney Dacre, thought to have died in the aftermath of the Great Train Robbery of 1857, but planning a coup to crown his career of evil: the robbery of the US mint in Philadelphia.

Immaculate officers and rough-bearded riflemen, evangelists, card-sharps and dandies face death at attention on the sloping deck of the Birkenhead. But who was the coward hidden among the women in the lifeboat, and who was the girl who lived to report his shame? Eight years later in the summer of 1860, the coward's legacy unfolds, and Verity must piece together a mystery that leads him to uncover an ingenious plot: a madman's revenge for the loss of the Birkenhead. And with this knowledge, only Verity can avert a tragedy unparalleled in English history since the loss of Prince William in the White Ship 700 years before.

William Clarence Verity is a sergeant in Scotland Yard's 'Private Clothes Detail'. His beat is the underworld of Victorian London - as seething maze of alleys and bordellos, peopled with sneak thieves, thugs, murderers and their doxies. From far-off Bengal there comes to Verity a tantalising hint of major crime in the making. Despite his superiors' instructions, Verity determines to run the plotters down. And there begins a battle between Verity's sturdy resolve and the devilish cunning of his unseen adversary: Lieutenant Verney Dacre, retired officer of cavalry, woman-beater and gentleman cracksman. The stakes are Verity's career - indeed his freedom - and half a ton of bullion.

Sergeant Verity's second adventure sees him sweltering under the Indian sun, as mutiny brings pillage and war to Bengal. Attached to the Intelligence Department in Calcutta, Verity is given the task of tracing English women who have fallen into the hands of the mutineers, and who face death - or an even worse fate in the harem. But this task is supplanted by a yet more desperate quest when the Kaiser-i-Hind, the great diamond which symbolises sovereignty over all India, disappears, as if by magic, from beneath Verity's eyes as it is about to be handed over to the British.

Sergeant Verity's adversaries in the underworld are as busy as ever, this time taking advantage of the Brighton Races to dupe the populace, and, more seriously, to steal the beautiful Shah Jehan clasp. Everyone knows that the glistening jewel is priceless, but only the likes of Sealskin Kite and Old Mole know its true worth. Down from Paddington Green with his family and his old accomplice Miss Jolly, Verity thinks he has crime at bay in Brighton. But the easy time he had anticipated soon turns into a nightmare of false alarms, public disgrace and, worst of all, personal disaster.

In the slum alleys of Lambeth in 1891 a sinister silk-hatted figure lurks in the shadows - but trade is there for the taking and a girl must make a living. Now, one after another, the girls who work the Waterloo Road wake in the morning to feel the slow agony of the most vicious of poisons . . . victims of the man called Fred. The police have only a string of 'catch me if you can' letters to taunt them, whilea whole mailing list of Victorian worthies find demands for money with menaces in their mail. Inspector Swain investigates . . . 'Original story told in a highly individual manner' Times Literary Supplement

'Donald Thomas introduces us to the slums and fetid courtyards of nineteenth-century London and in doing so provides a sweeping portrait of the vast world that did not accept "Victorian Values". The villainy is outstanding. It is also entertaining. The author has a practised eye for the best anecdotes and presents amazing characters, some of whom come equipped with names that sound positively Dickensian . . . a wonderful profile of Victorian London' The Spectator