So this was what it was all about. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. Could it be him you mean?" "No. A detective will be here in a few moments to make inquiries into this affair. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. "What for?" demanded Wood.
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