‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. Now, more and more, we’re going to be interested in them, to be curious about them and—quite mildly-experimental with them. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. If the principal instigator of the crime, whom I afterwards encountered on the platform, and who was dashed into the raging flood by the shower of bricks, escaped, his preservation must have been indeed miraculous.
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