My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. Although Melusine had taken care to trouble herself about the hand she had cut, and was glad to find it healing very well. And she would have to go tomorrow. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. She would never, never go back. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Perhaps in two or three weeks. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's.
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