Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. "Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered.
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