In the outer suburbs, the traffic was lighter, and the police were much less in evidence. But a convoy of motor lorries, which he rushed past, in which he caught a glimpse of soldiers in khaki service dress, added fuel sufficient to the already flaming fire of the King's anxiety. At any moment, it seemed to him now, he might be called upon to halt, and compelled to return, if he was allowed to return, ignominiously, to the palace. But the barrier, drawn right across the road, with its little groups of attendant police, and military, which he could see, so vividly, in his imagination, did not materialize. The throbbing car rushed on, through the outer suburbs, on past the last clusters of decorous, red-tiled villas, on through the area of market gardens, where the town first meets, and mingles with the country, on the north side of London, and so out, at last, on to the Great North Road, unchecked, and unchallenged. The broad high road stretched ahead, empty and deserted, in the brilliant noon sunshine, as far as eye could see. The car leapt at the road like a live thing-- At last, the familiar, white-painted signpost, the Paradise-Hades post, flashed into view on the left of the road. It was then, and not until then, that the King slowed down the car. A great wave of relief, which told him how tense his anxiety had been, swept over him. He looked at his watch. It was some minutes past noon now. Already, behind him, in the town, the storm had broken. Already the blow had fallen. But this was Paradise. He had escaped. He was safe. He was free. All about him lay the sunlit, peaceful countryside. The hedges, on either side of the broad, winding road, were white with the blossoms of the wild rose. Beyond the hedges, stretched the open fields, a vivid, but restful, green in the bright noon light, broken, here and there, by clumps of tall trees, and rising, in a gradual, gracious curve to thickly wooded heights on the skyline. A few cattle lay, motionless, on the grass, in the shade of the trees. A young foal, startled by the passing of the car, scrambled up on to his long legs, and fled, across the fields, followed, more sedately, by his heavy, clumsy, patient mother. One or two rabbits scuttled into the hedge, with a flash of their white bob-tails. High up, clear cut against the cloudless blue of the sky, a kestrel hovered. Yes. This was Paradise, unchanged, unchanging-- Soon the familiar turning into the narrow, tree shadowed lane, on the left of the road came into view. Swinging into the lane, the King slowed down the car yet once again, partly from habit, and partly because of his enjoyment of the summer beauty all about him. He had plenty of time now. He laughed recklessly at the thought. He had all the time there was! Was he not--on strike--taking a holiday? At the house, at the bottom of the lane, the carriage gate, as usual, stood wide open.