’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. “I will make of the days and weeks one long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them.
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