come to the right place."

Then Turnbull, who had been staring with a frown at the fresh
turf, burst out with a rather bitter laugh and cried, throwing
his red head in the air:

"Yes, by God, MacIan, I think we have come to the right place!"
And MacIan answered, with an adamantine stupidity:

"Any place is the right place where they will let us do it."

There was a long stillness, and their eyes involuntarily took in
the landscape, as they had taken in all the landscapes of their
everlasting combat; the bright, square garden behind the shop;
the whole lift and leaning of the side of Hampstead Heath; the
little garden of the decadent choked with flowers; the square of
sand beside the sea at sunrise. They both felt at the same moment
all the breadth and blossoming beauty of that paradise, the
coloured trees, the natural and restful nooks and also the great
wall of stone--more awful than the wall of China--from which no
flesh could flee.

Turnbull was moodily balancing his sword in his hand as the other
spoke; then he started, for a mouth whispered quite close to his
ear. With a softness incredible in any cat, the huge, heavy man
in the black hat and frock-coat had crept across the lawn from
his own side and was saying in his ear: "Don't trust that second
of yours. He's mad and not so mad, either; for he frightfully
cunning and sharp. Don't believe the story he tells you about why
I hate him. I know the story he'll tell; I overheard it when the