‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. Here you only waste your time. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. This horrible piece of deformity, who acted as drawer and cellarman, and was a constant butt to the small wits of the jail, was nicknamed the Black Dog of Newgate. ” “Ennison here thought he saw her in London,” Meddoes remarked. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather.
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