“Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. She looked away. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car.
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