The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. . That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. . One of the coolies held the paper lantern. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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