Hickson: Over here, miss. Here he is. He wasn't in he's room at the inn last monday, right, and i
went looking for him. I found him here in a poor fettle. I thought i'd better fetch you, miss
Prudence: My god it's him...Antracon...my love
Antracon: Their eyes so hollow so hollow
Prudence: What's happened to you? Why are you all covered in blood?
Antracon: Every whore shall burn...every whore shall burn
Prudence: Hickson, help him up to the street and into my carriage. We've...
Hickson: Here we go sir Prudence...got to get him out of town. We'll take him to my father's