His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. . ’ He slid slowly down and collapsed to the stone floor, fainting dead away. ‘I’m following a scent. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. . " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions.
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