Wood scarcely knew where he was. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. “But of course it’s aunt’s doing really. You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. ” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations.
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