Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. You never can go back. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. "Under these circumstances, Rowland did what any other sensible person would do. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. Public school. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth.
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