“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out.
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