“Eight, Cavendish Square. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. It was for ever. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. “No, I mean that we should assemble ourselves in case your parents arrive home.
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