rs. Malplaquet's was not to be found. Neither did the street
directory show her as the tenant of any of the houses on Campden
Hill.

I don't know that there is a more pleasant residential quarter of
London than the quiet streets and gardens that straggle over this
airy height. The very steepness of the slopes leading up from the
Kensington High Street on the one side and from Holland Park
Avenue on the other effectually preserves the atmosphere of
old-world languor which envelops this retired spot. The hill,
with its approaches so steep as to suggest to the imaginative the
pathway winding up some rock-bound fastness of the Highlands,
successfully defies organ-grinders and motor-buses and other
aspirants to the membership in the great society for the
propagation of street noises. As you near the summit, the quiet
becomes more pronounced until you might fancy yourself a thousand
leagues, instead of as many yards, removed from the busy commerce
of Kensington or the rather strident activity of Notting Hill.

So various in size and condition are the houses that it is as
though they had broken away from the heterogeneous rabble of
bricks and mortar that makes up the Royal Borough of Kensington,
and run up in a crowd to the summit of the hill to look down
contemptuously upon their less fortunate brethren in the plain.
On Campden Hill there are houses to suit all purses and all
tastes from the vulgar mansion with its private garden to the
little one-story stable that Art (which flourishes in these
parts) and ten shillings worth of paint has converted into a
cottage.

For half an hour Desmond wandered in a desultory fashion along
the quiet roads of natty houses with brightly painted doors and
shining brass knockers. He had no definite objective; but he
hoped rather vaguely to pick up some clue that might lead him to
Mrs. Malplaquet's. He walked slowly along surveying the houses
and scrutinizing the faces of the passers-by who were few and far
between, yet without coming any nearer the end of his search.

It was now growing dusk. Enthroned on the summit of the hill the
water-tower stood out hard and clear against the evening sky.
Desmond, who had lost his bearings somewhat in the course of his
wanderings, came to a full stop irresolutely, where two streets
crossed, thinking that he would retrace his footsteps to the
main-road on the chance of picking up a taxi to take him back to
town. He chose one of the streets at random