Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. In short, more preparations were made than if a state criminal was about to be executed. He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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