20 The ProfessionThe glories of Pedigree Mews had departed for ever. There were not even children playing in the uneven brick sink which formed the street, and the whole place had a furtive and surly aspect.
It lay at right angles to the blind alley which was Beverley Mews on the one side, and Wishart Street, which wriggled down into Church Street, Kensington, on the other. A dangerous and depressing spot.
Mr Campion glanced up and down the row. There was not a soul in sight. Number Twelve A was a dilapidated doorway in the corner between the two mews.
He pushed open the door, and entered into a passage smelling horribly of damp and cats. In front of him was a square patch of light revealing the tiny yard of the house, probably even more execrable than the passage itself. Just before th
