"No," rejoined Thames, "I won't be treated like a common felon, if I can help it. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. That’s where you go wrong. To perdition with them all. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. "Will you plead?" demanded Wild, harshly.
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