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. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. ‘A French rat with exceedingly long arms, I see. ’ A trifle discomposed at being caught examining his surroundings, Gerald was provoked into retort. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise.
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