Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. “I killed him. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. ‘You have not the right. ’ Gerald smiled. Gag him," he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, "and convey him to the boat.
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