After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. She opened the door with a neon colored key.
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