The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. "From Jonathan Wild's confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?" With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold's clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. She followed the landlady half way up-stairs, and called up to Ann Veronica, “May I come up? It’s me! You know—Nettie Miniver!” She appeared before Ann Veronica could clearly recall who Nettie Miniver might be. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting.
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