Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. . It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused.
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