” He sat like a man turned to stone. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Mr. He had not remembered her as looking so small. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. The pistol fell to the floor.
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