“The man who was found dead in your sister’s room was named Hill?” “It is the man,” she answered. Here again instinct guided her. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. Accordingly, he stopped the coach, dismounted, and hastened towards the assemblage, which, he was glad to find, consisted chiefly of a posse of watchmen and other guardians of the night. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill.
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