“Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. They tried to read illustrated papers in an unconcerned manner and with forced attention, lest they should catch the leaping exultation in each other’s eyes. His eyes closed. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked.
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