" "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. Shotbolt that if he, or any other person, takes Jack Sheppard before to-morrow morning, I'll double it. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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