At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. "Do not—do not!" "He must!" thundered Jonathan, "or he goes to jail. ‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began.
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