"What for?" he said.
"For the murder of Godfrey Mills," said the man. "Here is the warrant. I warn you that all you say—"
Morris, whose lithe athletic frame had gone slack for the moment, stiffened himself up again.
"I am not going to say anything," he said. "Martin, drive to Mr.
Taynton's at once, and tell him that I am arrested."
The other two now had closed round him.
"Oh, I'm not going to bolt," he said. "Please tell me where you are going to take me."
"Police Court in Branksome Street," said the first.
"Tell Mr. Taynton I am there," said Morris to his man.
There was a cab at the corner of the square, and in answer to an almost imperceptible nod from one of the men, it moved up to the house. The square was otherwise nearly empty, and Morris looked round as the cab drew nearer. Upstairs in the house he had just left, was his mother who was coming out to Falmer this evening to dine; above illimitable blue stretched from horizon to horizon, behind was the free fresh sea. Birds chirped in the bushes and lilac was in flower. Everything had its liberty.
Then a new instinct seized him, and though a moment before he had given his word that he was not meditating escape, liberty called to him. Everything else was free. He rushed forward, striking right and left with his arms, then tripped on the edge of the paving stones and fell. He was instantly seized, and next moment was in the cab, and fetters of steel, though he could not remember their having been placed there, were on his wrists.