He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. "Here, Poll, help me!" Thus exhorted, Mrs. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. Now tell them why. The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of whom carried lanterns and links. Nothing could occupy her attention long today, unless it concerned her situation. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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