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“Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. He made a note of the idea and stored it away. Wild on his guard against an assassin. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.
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