The lady had disappeared. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. I must go to work again. “Not much. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night.
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