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. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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