She was the High Priestess. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. I know now that I was mistaken. ’ ‘What sort of “down on your luck”?’ asked Alderley. Lucy stepped inside. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. Sheppard was committed to the earth. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream.
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