“Mere sensuality. Hold your hand for a moment. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. "If this is the case, where is she?" "In Bedlam," replied the thief-taker, with a Satanic grin. "He knows he had to take it. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance.
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