“What you want now?”
“I won't come in,” said Mrs. Baxter. “I just came to see.”
“See what?”
“I wondered—I thought perhaps you needed something. I knew your watch was out of order—”
“F'r 'evan's sake what if it is?”
She offered a murmur of placative laughter as her apology, and said: “Well, I just thought I'd tell you—because if you did intend going to the station, I thought you probably wouldn't want to miss it and get there too late. I've got your hat here all nicely brushed for you. It's nearly twenty minutes of one, Willie.”
“WHAT?”
“Yes, it is. It's—”
She had no further speech with him.
Breathless, William flung open his door, seized the hat, racketed down the stairs, and out through the front door, which he left open behind him. Eight seconds later he returned at a gallop, hurtled up the stairs and into his room, emerging instantly with something concealed under his coat. Replying incoherently to his mother's inquiries, he fell down the stairs as far as the landing, used the impetus thus given as a help to greater speed for the rest of the descent—and passed out of hearing.