"I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the boulevards. "Jack," continued Thames, addressing Sheppard, who had only just recovered from the blow, and regained his feet, "I don't ask how you came here, nor do I blame your rashness in doing so. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up.
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