‘But a spy I am not. There were no mourners. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. She was conscious the whole conversation of Michelle, trying to divine what the girl was planning to do. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution.
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