The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. Charvill’s fury was burning out. “The next question, Miss Anna,” he said, “is how am I to help you? I am wholly at your disposal. People ran out of their shops to join the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had a troop of fifty persons at his heels —all eager to assist in the capture. She dismissed the idea of doing so. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. Earles. He smiled. She reached for the door handle. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door.
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