Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Old Newgate. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes. In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. His guardian angel warned Spurlock to speak carefully. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused.
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