At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. If the boy was legging it alone…. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up.
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