Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. Chapter IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST “You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna said lightly. "The sum which incited the villain to the murder," replied Jack.
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