‘Very well, arrest me. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge.
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