” “I think,” Lady Lescelles said, putting down her teacup, “that I must send Nigel to plead his own cause. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. He seated himself before it. He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. He was a stranger.
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