"On Friday," he replied. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. “But perhaps I want to confess them. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible.
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