When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better. "So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. He was there concealed, waiting her return. The inside was empty except for an infant, which from a distance looked utterly normal. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. “It does nothing but sit there. It heralded you, promised you.
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