But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. " There was a pause. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation.
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