to put any of them on; and tucking his sword under his other arm,
went wildly at the wall at the bottom of the garden and swung
himself over it. Three seconds after he had alighted in his socks
on the other side, MacIan alighted beside him, also in his socks
and also carrying clothes and sword in a desperate bundle.

They were in a by-street, very lean and lonely itself, but so
close to a crowded thoroughfare that they could see the vague
masses of vehicles going by, and could even see an individual
hansom cab passing the corner at the instant. Turnbull put his
fingers to his mouth like a gutter-snipe and whistled twice. Even
as he did so he could hear the loud voices of the neighbours and
the police coming down the garden.

The hansom swung sharply and came tearing down the little lane at
his call. When the cabman saw his fares, however, two wild-haired
men in their shirts and socks with naked swords under their arms,
he not unnaturally brought his readiness to a rigid stop and
stared suspiciously.

"You talk to him a minute," whispered Turnbull, and stepped back
into the shadow of the wall.

"We want you," said MacIan to the cabman, with a superb Scotch
drawl of indifference and assurance, "to drive us to St. Pancras
Station--verra quick."

"Very sorry, sir," said the cabman, "but I'd like to know it was
all right. Might I arst where you come from, sir?"