They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Then she would be dead, and that was no use. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. ‘And why have you not arrested him? Do not tell me you have allowed him to escape you. I only know that it is right to do what I do. . Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. On that night, I surrendered myself to Jonathan Wild, and became— what I am.
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