They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. It’s these damned novels. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. Gerald’s voice came back to her, saying that she could not hope to outwit “a man who means business”. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. ‘Something in that, missie.
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