Mischief bubbled up in her. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. ‘I thought you said you take housebreaking very seriously.
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