“A little morning ceremony at the Tower,” he answered, “unless these idiotic English are too sentimental to execute a woman...”
The car was running down the long slope to Paddington Station. It drew up at the entrance to the booking office, and Strangwise, springing from the driver’s seat, flung open the door.
“Come on!” he cried, “we must look sharp or we’ll miss our train!”
He dragged a couple of bags off the roof and led the way into the station. In the booking-hall he inquired of a porter what time the express left for Bath, then went to the ticket office and took four first-class tickets to that place. Meanwhile, the car remained standing empty in the carriageway.
Strangwise led his little party up some stairs and across a long bridge, down some stairs and up some stairs again, emerging, finally, at the Bakerloo Tube Station. There he despatched Bellward to fetch a taxi.
Taxis are rare in the early hours of the morning in war-time and Bellward was gone fully twenty minutes. Strangwise fidgeted continually, drawing out his watch repeatedly and casting many anxious glances this way and that.
His nervous demeanor began to affect Mrs. Malplaquet, who had linked her arm affectionately in Barbara’s. The girl remained absolutely apathetic. Indeed, she seemed almost as one in a trance.
“Aren’t we going to Bath?” at length demanded Mrs. Malplaquet of Strangwise.
“Don’t ask questions!” snapped the latter.
“But the car?” asked the lady.