You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. —Strype's Stow. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. There it is. Oh, it is unbearable. “I think she is the perpetrator behind several attacks, not just the clothes stealing. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. He could not permit her to remain in that position. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. So was I, in fact.
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