The cage at Willesden was, and is—for it is still standing—a small round building about eight feet high, with a pointed tiled roof, to which a number of boards, inscribed with the names of the parish officers, and charged with a multitude of admonitory notices to vagrants and other disorderly persons, are attached. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ‘I am not a murderer. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “I’ve got it. Wagstaff.
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