“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. ’ Gerald grinned. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. She awoke at 11:12 am, her foster sister snoring in the bed across the room. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. Old Newgate was divided into three separate prisons,—the Master's Side, the Common Side, and the Press Yard. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving.
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