“You’re our superstar!” Turning to her foster father, she was bear hugged again, squashing the white carnations. “I HAVE—had one or two talks with him, daddy. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. He found, however, that now the time had come he utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. In vain Wood protested his innocence. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him.
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