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Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. “My word holds,” she said. "It was given me by a man who was drinking t'other night with Blueskin at the Lion! and who, though he slouched his hat over his eyes, and muffled his chin in a handkerchief, must have been Jonathan Wild. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately.
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