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Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. “After all, how easy the descent is, even for the greatest of us. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat.
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