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’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. ‘That’s wicked, that is. After all, this could never be the black sheep. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. He kept his keen eyes steadily fixed on Thames, as if awaiting to be addressed.
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