Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. “I will believe you. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. " So saying, he unlocked the door and strode out of the room. "'It was all perfectly legal? "My word for it. No: I must face it out. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water.
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