at most of the people were at the front, and
they were frantic with religious excitement. Women were crushing up to
the rail which the Father had leaned his head upon for a moment after he
had finished his prayer, in order to press their handkerchiefs and shawls
on it.

"But nobody would know you now, Brother Storm--even your face is
different."

John laughed again, but he turned off the lights, thinking to drive away
the few who were still lingering in the back street. The ruse succeeded.
Then the man of God went out on his high errand, crept out, stole out,
sneaked out, precisely as if he had been a criminal on his way to commit
a crime.

He followed the lanes and narrow streets and alleys behind the Abbey,
past the "Bell," the "Boar's Head," and the "Queen's Arms"--taverns that
have borne the same names since the days when Westminster was Sanctuary.
People home from the races were going into them with their red ties awry,
with sprigs of lilac in their buttonholes; and oak leaves in their hats.
The air was full of drunken singing, sounds of quarrelling, shameful
words and curses. There were some mutterings of thunder and occasional
flashes of lightning, and over all there was the deep hum of the crowd in
the church square.

Crossing the bottom of Parliament Street he was almost run down by a
squadron of mounted police who were trotting into Broad Sanctuary. To
escape observation he turned on to the Embankment and walked under the
walls of the gardens of Whitehall, past the back of Charing Cross station
to the street going up from the Temple.

The gate of Clement's Inn was closed, and the porter had to come out of
his lodge to open it.

"The Garden House!"

"Garden House, sir? Inner court left-hand corner."

John passed through. "That will be remembered afterward," he thought.
"But no matter--it will all be over then."

And coming out of the close streets, with their clatter of traffic, into
the cool gardens, with their odour of moistened grass, the dull glow in
the sky, and the glimpse of the stars through the tree-tops, his mind
went back by a sudden bound to another night, when he had walked over the
same spot with Glory. At that there came a spasm of tenderness, and his
throat thickened. He could almost see her, and feel her by his side, with
her fragrant freshness and buoyant step. "O God! must I do it, must I,
must I?" he thought again.

But another memory of that night came back to him; he heard Dra