Chapter VI.—The Secrets of the River.That same night, a few minutes before nine o'clock, a man alighted from a first-class carriage at Limehouse Station, and turning up his coat collar and pressing down his hat well upon his forehead, proceeded to make his way briskly through the squalid streets. The air was chilly and the river mist hung everywhere.
At all times, to most people, the mean side-streets of the East End of London are depressing, but they are particularly so at night, for then with the houses badly lit they suggest poverty, as surely as do the gaunt faces of the passers-by. The dark, and often blindless windows, make one think of want and hunger, and of ill-clothed human beings, lacking so much of the happiness of life.
However, the man with the turned-up collar was evidentl
