![]() The floor was carpeted, the bed covered with clean linen, the desk stocked with paper, quill pen, two pencils, ink, and even-such was the honor expected of a wealthy felon-a penknife. One of the most powerful and feared bankers in London could invite a pickpocket to dine, for example, simply because the banker had learned that company-any company at all-was a distraction from impending death.ĭespite the signed warrant dictating Quinn’s fate, his cell might have been a successful solicitor’s quarters. “Not so’s I’d notice.”Īll manner of strange protocols applied in Newgate. “Thank you for bringing me the news,” Quinn said. Quinn had forbidden his siblings to “get him out.” Abetting the escape of a convicted felon was itself a hanging felony, as were 219 other crimes, among them stealing anything valued at more than twelve pence. ![]() “Old Fletcher might die, sir, and then who would they find to do the business? Your family will get you out, see if they don’t.” “You mean I won’t be hanged this Monday.”Ĭonsternation replaced ebullience on the grimy little face. An uncomfortable emotion stirred, something Quinn might once have called hope but now considered a useless reflex. ![]() When Ned skipped into Quinn Wentworth’s cell, the boy’s rare, angelic smile thus had a greater impact than his words. Joy was the first casualty in Newgate prison. Can’t stir but two feet from the chamber pot. “You isn’t to be hanged on Monday!” Ned declared. ![]()
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