Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. “Where am I?” he muttered. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture.
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