Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. Morningside Park was a suburb that had not altogether, as people say, come off. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit. “But your hair,” he gasped. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon.
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