There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. However this may be now, it was unquestionably true of old Newgate. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault.
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