It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. "Poor fellow! I'm glad he has escaped. The Robbery in Willesden Church. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. We can take our things up with us and stay at the Continental or the Ritz. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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