Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. The stranger turned his head at the sound. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Then he turned to Anna. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard.
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