" "That's impossible," replied Jack. Surely Capes was different. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. A large body of the constables of Westminster next made their appearance, the chief of whom entered the Lodge, where they were speedily joined by the civic authorities.
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