“No, no,” she cried. What was his problem, she thought to herself. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey Hill or not. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. You're in luck to-night, widow. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview.
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