Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. "He comes!" cried a thousand voices, and the shout ascended to Smithfield, descended to Snow Hill, and told those who were assembled on Holborn Hill that Sheppard had left the prison. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. “What can you do?” she asked. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed.
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