Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. ‘Is she the Frenchie we’ve been watching for then, sir?’ The lady’s furious features turned on this new target.
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