But it was hopelessly hard to put. ‘Exactly like my father. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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