"But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. The moment my escape is known, a large reward will be placed on my head. "Go and take your plunge while I attend to breakfast. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. . "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer.
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