Nothing is of any concern of ours except the discovery of the man’s identity. How did you get into this house?’ He shrugged. She rose to the fire to stoke it. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. He lowered himself on to her. In an instant, she turned on him. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?" "No, that you can't," answered Mrs.
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