"Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. She had a warm, fun-loving personality, and an unflattering disrespect for her future husband’s authority. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. His struggles were so violent, that, being a man of tremendous strength, it was some time before they could master him, and it required the combined efforts of all the four partners to put him into irons. But you must get him into the chair as fast as you can, and hurry off to Newgate. I am. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. ‘That is settled then. I must have something in hand. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. She forced herself not to think of John. It has been proved.
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