The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Mere formality. Here we go, thought Gerald. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. But, no. "That's the kinchin as was to try the dub for us, ain't it?" muttered Smith to his companion as he stole a glance at Jack Sheppard.
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