Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. Gerald’s voice came back to her, saying that she could not hope to outwit “a man who means business”. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. . . Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. ‘I can manage now.
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