Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. ” “It is,” Annabel answered shortly. I don’t know that I understand altogether. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. And yet the moment I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all on my reputation. I find you an impenetrable enigma. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. " "He's coming!" cried Jack, stamping his foot, with vexation.
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