It looked very much like it.
He glanced hastily at his watch.
It was nearly a quarter to twelve.
Where were the barriers, of which the old Duke had spoken, likely to be?
Here, or, perhaps, even further out, on the outskirts of the town, almost certainly.
And he had still to make good his escape!
Hitherto he had never doubted that he would make good his escape. Now, with the police already concentrating, and taking up their position in the streets, he could be no longer sure that he would get away, in time.
Fortunately, at that moment, the road, at last, cleared. The King hastily let out the car once again. Then he opened out the engine, recklessly, to its fullest extent. This was no time for careful driving. The powerfully engined car did not fail him at his need. Sweeping clear of the traffic immediately in front, it was soon rushing along the level surface of the tramway track which led on, out into the outer suburbs.
In the outer suburbs, the traffic was lighter, and the police were much less in evidence. But a convoy of motor lorries, which he rushed past, in which he caught a glimpse of soldiers in khaki service dress, added fuel sufficient to the already flaming fire of the King's anxiety. At any moment, it seemed to him now, he might be called upon to halt, and compelled to return, if he was allowed to return, ignominiously, to the palace.
But the barrier, drawn right across the road, with its little groups of attendant police, and military, which he could see, so vividly, in his imagination, did not materialize. The throbbing car rushed on, through the outer suburbs, on past the last clusters of decorous, red-tiled villas, on through the area of market gardens, where the town first meets, and mingles with the country, on the north side of London, and so out, at last, on to the Great North Road, unchecked, and unchallenged.