“Don’t!” she begged. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. “Okay. Katy oozed money from every pore of her being. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. Spurling; "they're both here.
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