hout other words.
Mrs. Peckover urged the danger of this excitement, and speedily led the
way downstairs.

CHAPTER VI

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST

Sidney Kirkwood had a lodging in Tysoe Street, Clerkenwell. It is a
short street, which, like so many in London, begins reputably and
degenerates in its latter half. The cleaner end leads into Wilmington
Square, which consists of decently depressing houses, occupied in the
main, as the lower windows and front-doors indicate, by watchmakers,
working jewellers, and craftsmen of allied pursuits. The open space,
grateful in this neighbourhood, is laid out as a garden, with trees,
beds, and walks. Near the iron gate, which, for certain hours in the
day, gives admission, is a painted notice informing the public that, by
the grace of the Marquis of Northampton, they may here take their ease
on condition of good behaviour; to children is addressed a distinct
warning that 'This is not a playing ground.' From his window Sidney had
a good view of the Square. The house in which he lived was of two
storeys; a brass plate on the door showed the inscription, 'Hodgson,
Dial Painter.' The window on the ground-floor was arched, as in the
other dwellings at this end of the street, and within stood an artistic
arrangement of wax fruit under a glass shade, supported by a heavy
volume of Biblical appearance. The upper storey was graced with a small
iron balcony, on which straggled a few flower-pots. However, the
exterior of this abode was, by comparison, promising; the curtains and
blinds were clean, the step was washed and whitened, the brass plate
shone, the panes of glass had at all events acquaintance with a duster.
A few yards in the direction away from the Square, and Tysoe Street
falls under the dominion of dry-rot.

It was not until he set forth to go to work next morning that Sidney
called to mind his conversation with Jane. That the child should have
missed by five minutes a meeting with someone who perchance had the
will and the power to befriend her, seemed to him, in his present mood,
merely an illustration of a vice inherent in the nature of things. He
determined to look in at the public-house of which she had spoken, and
hear for himself what manner of man had made inquiries for people named
Snowdon. The name was not a common one; it was worth while to spend a
hope or two on the chance of doing Jane a kindness. Her look and voice
when he bade her be of good courage had touched