‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. Dismissing the post-chaise at the Old Bailey, he walked to Newgate to ascertain what had occurred since the escape. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. She acted as her mother had taught her to. Gerald switched to French. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He did not explain what had happened to her.
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