“I don't want any—I can walk.”

“It will take you an hour then.”

A clock was striking somewhere. “Hush! One, two, three ... eleven o'clock. It will be midnight when you get there. Now go!”

The key was grating in the lock of the gate. “Remember Lauds at six in the morning.”

“I'll be back at five.”

“And I'll open the gate at 5.30. Only six hours to do everything.”

“Good-night, then.”

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

Paul was in the street, but John was in the darkness of the passage.