‘A convenient desire, Mademoiselle Charvill. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. ’ Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha.
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