’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch.
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