ToC About an hour after the occurrences at Newgate, the door of the small backparlour already described at Dollis Hill was opened by Winifred, who, gliding noiselessly across the room, approached a couch, on which was extended a sleeping female, and, gazing anxiously at her pale careworn countenance, murmured,—"Heaven be praised! she still slumbers—slumbers peacefully. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. He picked up the remote and sat himself to her right. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby.
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