I was the last on board. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. It was the grand nursery of vice. ” Ogilvy reflected. ‘They hold their nose up, so. I’m convinced that much of Russell’s investigations are on wrong lines, unsound lines. 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.
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