She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. But I will not believe you. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. He would provide the necessities of life and protect her. Was anything missed after the lad's departure, Sir Rowland?" "Not that I'm aware of," said the knight. Maybe it’s his loss. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor.
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