" It was not uttered interrogatively; rather as though Ah Cum did not like the significance of the word and was turning it over and about in speculation. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. ” His rhythm slowed to a grind. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. What they do with him afterward is off my ticket, no concern of James Boyle; they can lock him up or let him go. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie.
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