Too, that she was escaping cleanly from Amsterdam, after all that had happened of late, was something akin to a miracle. D'Avaux was right to wonder why she had not been arrested for the matter of the harpoon. She had stumbled away from the scene – the Herring Packers' Tower – weeping with anger at Jack. But soon anger had been shouldered aside by fear as she'd realized she was being followed, rather obviously, by several parties at once. Looking back wouldn't've done her any good and so she'd kept walking, all the way across the Dam and then through the Exchange, which was as good a place as any to lose pursuers – or at least to remind them that they could be doing more profitable things with their time. Finally she'd gone to the Maiden and sat by a window for several hours, watching – and had seen very little. A couple of tall loiterers, whom she now knew to've been Jacques and Jean-Baptiste, and one lolling Vagabond-beggar, identifiable by his humpbacked posture and insistent hacking cough.