Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. “Hill has asked for you, and they will take his depositions to-night. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Why did the beggar hang on down there, when he could have enjoyed all that civilization had to offer? Yes, he would be mighty glad to see McClintock; and the sooner he came the better. The lad hesitated.
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