Then the man who had spoken before shouted.
“Then ’tis the Fleet for you, my Lord! And there you’ll stay till you pays us!”
Jemima gave a little gasp.
She knew that the Fleet Prison for debtors was filled with men who languished there by Order of the Court in appalling conditions of squalor and disease until their relatives or friends could bail them out by paying their debts.
She looked at the Viscount in horror and could see that with admirable self-control his expression had not changed.
She knew, however, that he was perturbed because, standing beside him, she could see a little pulse beating erratically in his temple.
“If that is your attitude,” he said after a moment’s pause, “then there is nothing I can do about it. But however hard you may try, you cannot get blood out of a s
