“If I do,” he said. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding.
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