Chapter Fifty
An unexpected visitor – a surprising coincidence – what of Miss Dunchurch? – Tom’s consternation
In the little brick-walled storeroom, Caxton snored fitfully on his cot. Tom sat on a stool, clenching and unclenching his fists. Perhaps, the next time the door was opened, he might be able to knock out a guard. He hoped so. He really hoped so.
“I say,” a muffled but familiar voice said. “I am about to open the door. I am not one of your jailers. Kindly do not attack me.
“Lady Decharles?” Tom said.
“Good Lord! Tom Baxter, is that you?”
Keys jingled and the door creaked open. Sure enough, there was her ladyship, in a plain dress and a much-darned green travelling cloak.
“Milady! What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question,” she said. “Weren’t you supposed
