A faint hum of traffic was borne in from the streets outside the precincts, and the shrill voices of newspaper boys came in unceasing chorus from the direction of Carmelite Street.
They were too far away to be physically disturbing, but the excited yells, toned down as they were by distance, nevertheless stirred the very marrow in my bones, so dreadfully suggestive were they of those possibilities of the future at which Thorndyke had hinted.

They seemed like the sinister shadows of coming misfortunes.
Perhaps they called up the same association of ideas in Thorndyke's mind, for he remarked presently: "The newsvendor is abroad to-night like a bird of ill-omen.

Something unusual has happened: some public or private calamity, most likely, and these yelling ghouls are out to feast on the remains.

The newspaper men have a good deal in common with the carrion-birds that hover over a battle-field." Again we subsided into silence and reflection.

Then, after an interval, I asked: "Would it be possible for me to help in any way in this investigation of yours ?" "That is exactly what I have been asking myself," replied Thorndyke.