Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby.
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