At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. "From that door," continued the thief-taker, pointing to the gloomy portal of the prison opposite which they were standing, "the condemned are taken to Tyburn. I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid.
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