" "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. " "Why not?" "I am a thief, a hunted man. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy.
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