Wood was once a favourite of yours. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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