Suddenly the car twisted to the right and stopped, and Viner
was aware of a long, narrow street, more gloomy than the rest, wherein
various doubtful-looking individuals moved about, and groups of poorly
clad children played in the gutters.
"All right," he said as he got down from the car, and the chauffeur made
a grimace at the unlovely vista. "Look here--I don't want you to wait
here. Go back to Whitechapel Road and hang about the end of the street
we've just come down. I'll come back there to you."
"Not afraid of going down here alone, then, sir?" asked the chauffeur.
"It's a bit as that policeman said."
"I'm all right," repeated Viner. "You go back and wait. I may be some
time. I mayn't be long."
He turned away down the street--and in spite of his declaration, he felt
that this was certainly the most doubtful place he had ever been in.
There were evil and sinister faces on the sidewalks; evil and sinister
eyes looking out of dirty windows; here and there a silent-footed figure
went by him in the gloom of the December day with the soft step of a wild
animal; here and there, men leaning against the wall, glared suspiciously
at him or fixed rapacious eyes on his good clothes.
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