"To the best of my belief, Thames Darrell has been murdered by you. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be.
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