The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. I can save you, and will. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. .
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