There are way-stations—even terminals. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. “You certainly got him in the bag. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Instantly she seized the poker and made a desperate effort to get them out again. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object.
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