She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. “I remember you now,” he said. In any event, I brought her to the convent and we had her locked up separately, and told ’em both they’d be taken into custody as soon as Valade was fit to go.
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