The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of whom carried lanterns and links. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. E. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ‘You don’t know the whole, child. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other.
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