At first light, he entered the city, working his way through the maze of alleys that ran behind the main streets, until he came to James’s house. All the windows were dark. He placed Dr. Warren’s letter, tied between two flat stones again, on the left corner of the kitchen stoop, and then went off to the granary. From the top floor, he watched the sun rise above Long Wharf, which ran a half mile into the harbor, and beyond that the outer islands and Nantasket Roads. Exhausted, but thankful for the smell of salt water, he curled up on the straw ticking and fell asleep to the belligerent cawing of seagulls. Abigail was exhausted. She had hardly slept during the night, after the message had been delivered the previous evening that she was to appear before the inquiry the following afternoon. While preparing for the appointment, James came up to Abigail’s room. “I wonder if I should pack some belongings,” she said. “If they sentence me, then will I be taken straight away to prison?”
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