The old witch had said that, had she? That he'd end up in the river? Showed her, didn't he. He couldn't help the smug expression that flickered across his face. Well, he'd not been hung, nor drowned in the river, or stabbed yet. He would have thought old Ma Roper would have been happy with that, but if she was in France now- although it was unlikely she'd have got that far. Probably gone to the coast and stopped there. She wouldn't have stepped on French soil to get her grubby hands on the crown jewels.
"I'm sure your sister's going well for herself." He explains, moving from his perch on his desk to the cabinet behind, finding a glass and pouring her a drink. A scotch would do her good, if he was going to deliver her the good news. "Missed you brother? Don't you anymore?" He asked as he handed her the drink.