But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. ” He would say every time she wore it. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. 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. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Then it dawned.
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