Then he understood. And she’s pluck to the backbone. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. . ’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this. I’m going to tell you things plainly. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it.
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