“Dear John,” she whispered. Ennison, or any other young man. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment.
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