Murder murder in her room,
Someone sweep the blood with a broom.
Murder murder in her room,
One day she would make men swoon.
Murder murder in her room,
I'll make her bleed to death very soon.
Murderer murderer waiting here,
Now she was gone and her sister would appear.
Murderer murderer waiting here,
Soon she'd be dead and all Londoner's will live in fear...

The song went round and around in my head as if it were stuck on repeat. Mary Pearcey was gone for I had killed her. Fear stricken Londoner's would live in fear of I who had killed the woman whom they should have feared. Her blood was on my hands and that was blood that could never be washed away for it stained my conscience red like fear and anger itself. My soul was darkening as we rode away into the darkness. To Scotland we were fleeing. To Scotland we fled to in fear. Fear of being caught, fear of being seen, fear of living alone.
To new beginnings and to a new life - a new life where we would not live in fear of others or of ourselves. To Scotland where nobody knows of thy murderous nature for a murderous trail I have left...