There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. “Very well,” he said, “I will go. ” Brendon went very pale. My own impression is that he already knows. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. I must go perhaps in all the rooms. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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