"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. . Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. Jack Sheppard's Escape from the New Prison.
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