Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. His mouth was sensuous but his eyes became frenetic. Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes.
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