Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Though by no means so extensive or commodious as the modern prison, Old Newgate was a large and strongly-built pile. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. “It—it—must come,” she faltered.
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