.

* * * * *

The unfortunate incident occurred in the vicinity of Stanhope Gate.

So far we had come very slowly, but without incident, and, in spite of
the fact that we were insufficiently clad, we were nice and warm. For
this, so far as Berry and I were concerned, two footwarmers and a pair
of rugs were largely responsible, for the elaborate nature of our
costumes put the wearing of overcoats out of the question. A
high-collared Italian cloak of the shape that was seen in the time of
Elizabeth made it impossible for me to wear a _surtout_ of any
description, and I was reduced to wrapping a muffler about my neck and
holding a woollen shawl across my chest, while Berry, in that puffed and
swollen array, which instantly remembers Henry the Eighth, derived what
comfort he could from an enormous cloak of Irish frieze which, while it
left his chest uncovered, succeeded in giving him a back about four feet
square.

Hitherto we had encountered little or no traffic, and an excellent
judgment, coupled with something akin to instinct, on the part of Fitch
had brought us surely along the streets; but here, almost before we knew
it, there were vehicles in front and on either side. Hoarse directions
were being shouted, lanterns were being waved, engines were running, and
a few feet away frantic endeavours were being made to persuade a pair of
horses to disregard twin headlights whose brilliancy was adding to the
confusion. Berry lowered the window.

"What about it, Fitch?"

"Well, sir, I'm just opposite the gate, but it's rather awkward to slip
across, in case I meet somethin'. If I 'as to pull up 'alf-way, we might
be run into."

"Which means that one of us must guide you over?"

"It'd be safer, sir."

By a majority of three it was decided that Berry should enact the _role_
of conducting officer. Jonah had a cold, and was sitting on the back
seat between the girls. I had no coat, and required the services of both
hands if I was to hold my shawl in position. Only my brother-in-law
remained. He did not go down without a struggle, but after a vigorous
but vain appeal "to our better natures," he compared himself to a lion
beset by jackals, commented bitterly upon "the hot air which is breathed
about self-sacrifice," and, directing that after death his veins should
be opened in the presence of not less than twelve surgeons, as a
preliminary to his interment in the Dogs' Cemetery, opened the do