She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but, none of them would open it. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Dinner was quite uneventful. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. You may well say it's impossible! His Majesty's jail of Newgate is admirably guarded, I must say. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped.
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