“I really owe him something of an apology. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. He would go there. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. On this elevation a table was now placed, around which sat the turnkeys and their guests, regaling themselves on the fragrant beverage provided by the prisoner.
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