At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. "May I ask whether you made any further inquiries into the mysterious affair about which we were speaking just now?" observed Jackson, turning to the carpenter. That’s— that’s my private life. "And the next time Captain Darrell wants a witness, I promise you he shan't look for one in vain. You, Jack Sheppard, have nothing to fear, as you've become evidence against your accomplice. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth.
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