His efforts to remove the offside oil lamp, which was hot to the touch,
were most diverting, and twice he returned to the window to ask us to
make less noise. At last, however, with the assistance of Fitch, the
lamp was unhooked, and a moment later our absurd link-boy advanced
cautiously in the direction of the gate.
Fitch let in the clutch.
We must have been half-way across, when a lamp of extraordinary power
came gliding up on the near side, confusing all eyes and altogether
effacing our guiding light.
Fitch applied his brakes and cried out a warning. Instantly the lamp
stopped, but its glare was blinding and our chauffeur was clearly afraid
to move.
In a flash I was out of the car and holding my shawl over the face of
the offender. At once Fitch took the car forward. As I fell in behind, I
heard Berry's voice.
"Thank you. I hope I didn't jostle your 'bus. Yes, I am completely and
utterly lost. No, I don't mind at all. I'm going to bale out the
drinking-trough and sleep there. And in the morning they'll take me to
the Foundling Hospital. Hullo. That's done it. Blind me first and then
run me down. What are you? A travelling lighthouse or an air-raid? Want
to get to Cannon Street? Well, I should go round by sea, if I were
you.
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