To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. Does this not disturb you?” 278 “Of course it disturbs me. And a broken picture that was torn when I hit him with it. ‘But you know everything now,’ protested Hilary, keeping pace as Gerald took the stairs two at a time.
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