At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. Farhat who was stranded on a desolate roadside until one fateful day he passed the traveling caravan of the beautiful princess Anoush. There you are, the best client’s chair. The odd creak was not to be avoided in an old house such as this. . The door was then locked, and he was left alone.
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