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A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. D'ye hear. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. Norris. That is an evil place!” She cried. This man’s name is Montague Hill.
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