The militia offered little in the way of relief. Of Jack Sheppard or the assailants they could not discover a single trace. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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