Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. I'd like to be alone now. She forced herself not to think of John. If I were Mr. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely.
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