The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. They would be quite as entertaining as the histories of Guzman D'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, Estevanillo Gonzalez, Meriton Latroon, or any of my favourite rogues,—and far more instructive. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain.
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