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. Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. For so far she had kept it uncashed. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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