the friend she called upon was near her.

'Who is that?' inquired the old man, turning to his companion.

'Only a friend of ours,' answered Mrs. Peckover, herself puzzled and
uneasy.

Again the sick girl called 'Mr. Kirkwood!' but without other words.
Mrs. Peckover urged the danger of this excitement, and speedily led
the way downstairs.





CHAPTER VI

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST




Sidney Kirkwood had a lodging in Tysoe Street, Clerkenwell. It is a
short street, which, like so many in London, begins reputably and
degenerates in its latter half. The cleaner end leads into
Wilmington Square, which consists of decently depressing houses,
occupied in the main, as the lower windows and front-doors indicate,
by watchmakers, working jewellers, and craftsmen of allied pursuits.
The open space, grateful in this neighbourhood, is laid out as a
garden, with trees, beds, and walks. Near the iron gate, which, for