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‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. " "This is folly," cried Jack, controlling himself by a powerful effort. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood.
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