’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated. \"No, but thank you. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. "Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. The door was fastened by a catch and a latch with an inside key, to which at night a chain and two bolts were added. It doesn't matter that you deal with black people.
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