Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. He had taken it back. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already.
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