We’ll make short work of them. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. I was sitting up, lamenting your departure, dear Thames, when, hearing an odd noise, I went to the landing, and, by the light of a dark lantern, saw Jack Sheppard, stealing up stairs, followed by two men with crape on their faces.
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