In the outer suburbs, milkmen, postmen, and boys delivering newspapers, were moving from door to door, in the quiet streets of villas. The tramcars, and later the buses, which the car caught up, and passed, were crowded with workmen, being carried at "Workmen's Fares." The shop fronts, in the inner suburbs, gay in the early morning sunlight, with their Coronation flags and decorations, were still all shuttered; but a thin trickle of men and women in the streets, moving in the direction of the railway stations, gave promise already of the impending rush of the business crowd. Coronation Day had come, and gone. The public holiday was over. Now there was work toward. At the far end of Tottenham Court Road, by which broad thoroughfare he approached, as he had escaped from, the town, the King deliberately varied the route which he had followed the night before. Heading the car straight on down Charing Cross Road, through Trafalgar Square, and so into Whitehall, he turned, at last, into Victoria Street. It was by the side streets, in the vicinity of Victoria Station, that he ultimately approached the palace, and ran out into Lower Grosvenor Place. He did this to avoid the neighbourhood of the parks, and possible recognition by early morning riders, on their way to and from Rotten Row. Lower Grosvenor Place proved, as usual, deserted. In the secluded, shut-in mews, behind the tall houses, no one, as yet, was stirring. In a very few minutes, the King had successfully garaged the car. Then he slipped hurriedly back across Grosvenor Place. The road was happily still empty, and he reached the small, green, wooden door in the palace garden wall, without encountering anything more formidable than a stray black cat. A black cat which shared his taste for night walking. A purring black cat, which rubbed its head against his legs. A black cat for luck! Unlocking, and opening, the door, the King slipped into the palace garden. The door swung to behind him. All need for anxiety, for haste, and for precaution was now at an end. It was only just eight o'clock. Sauntering leisurely through the garden, the King reached the palace without meeting any one, on the way. Sometimes, on these occasions, he ran into gardeners, early at work, a policeman, patrolling the walks, or some member of the household staff; but such encounters never caused him any anxiety. Why should not the King take a stroll in the garden, before breakfast? Had he not been known to dive into the garden lake for an early morning swim, and had not the fact been duly recorded in all the newspapers? He entered the palace by the door through which he had escaped the night before, and so, mounting the private staircase, which led up to his own suite of rooms, regained his dressing room, unchallenged. The creation of a certain amount of necessary disorder in his bedroom, and a partial undressing, were the work of only a few minutes.