‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. ’ ‘Where, then?’ Melusine asked again. Only in the sunshine; they would not answer my whistle on cloudy days. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day.
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