Sheppard. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. ” He left her where she was, crying in the doorway. ” She spoke like a mistress addressing school-children. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber.
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