Irreton. Even your family. . ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. “Still, of course, it is possible. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields.
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