Enschede's daughter. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. But she had loved the man. The doctor expected her to seize upon the subtle inference that there was something furtive, even criminal, in the manner the patient set this obligation upon humanity at large, to look after him in the event of his death.
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