Buck up. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. "I'll gibbet the rascal. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. Gerald swore.
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