The assassin [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONEAt three o'clock in the afternoon, Michael McDara alighted from a tram-car at the corner of Findlater's Church. He crossed the road and moved northwards until he came to the corner of Hardwicke Street. He halted there and looked around him cautiously. First, he looked down the street by which he had come. Then he looked northwards towards the corner of Dorset Street. Finally, he looked up Hardwicke Street. Then, having made a complete and careful examination of his surroundings, he set off up Hardwicke Street. But he had not gone three paces when he halted suddenly and returned to the corner. He looked around again in all directions, as if waiting for somebody.'Blazes!'he said to himself. 'This won't do. Any fool could spot something by the way I'm carrying on. What's the matter with me? Nobody knows anything yet. Eh?'He was trembling with excitement. He noticed this and took his hands out of the pockets of his shabby raincoat. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blew into his palms and then rubbed them together violently. If anybody were really watching, it would appear that he was trembling with the cold.He was a young man of medium size, very slightly built, with a marked stoop in his slender shoulders. His cheeks were pale and thin, with deep, vertical7