Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. “Have you killed recently?” He was curious, scared. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption.
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