The hall was void. I snatch’d down a cloak and heavy broad-brimm’d hat from one of the pegs, and donning them, slipp’d back the bolts of the heavy door. It opened without noise. Then, with a last hitch of the cloak, to bring it well about me, I stepp’d forth into the night, shutting the door quietly on my heels. My feet were on the pavement of the inner ward. Above, one star only broke the blackness of the night. Across the court was a sentry tramping. As I walk’d boldly up, he stopped short by the gate between the wards and regarded me. Now was my danger. I knew not the right key for the wicket: and if I fumbled, the fellow would detect me for certain. I chose one and drew nearer; the fellow look’d, saluted, stepp’d to the wicket, and open’d it himself. “Good night, Colonel!” I did not trust myself to answer: but passed rapidly through to the outer ward. Here, to my joy, in the arch’d passage of the barbican gate, was the carriage waiting, the porter standing beside the door; and here also, to my dismay, was a torch alight, and under it half a dozen soldiers chatting. A whisper pass’d on my approach— “The Colonel!” and they hurried into the guardroom. “Good evening, Colonel!” The porter bow’d low, holding the door wide. I pass’d him rapidly, climb’d into the shadow of the coach, and drew a long breath. Then ensued a hateful pause, as the great gates were unbarr’d. I gripp’d my knees for impatience. The driver spoke a word to the porter, who came round to the coach door again. “To Mistress Finch’s, is it not?” “Ay,” I muttered; “and quickly.” The coachman touched up his pair. The wheels mov’d; went quicker. We were outside the Castle. With what relief I lean’d back as the Castle gates clos’d behind us! And with what impatience at our slow pace I sat upright again next minute! The wheels rumbled over the bridge, and immediately we were rolling easily down hill, through a street of some importance: but by this time the shutters were up along the shop fronts and very few people abroad. At the bottom we turn’d sharp to the left along a broader thoroughfare: and then suddenly drew up. “Are we come?” I wonder’d. But no: ’twas the city gate, and here we had to wait for three minutes at least, till the sentries recogniz’d the Colonel’s coach and open’d the doors to us. They stood on this side and that, presenting arms, as we rattled through; and next moment I was crossing a broad bridge, with the dark Avon on either side of me, and the vessels thick thereon, their lanterns casting long lines of yellow on the jetty water, their masts and cordage looming up against the dull glare of the city. Soon we were between lines of building once more, shops, private dwellings and warehouses intermix’d; then pass’d a tall church; and in about two minutes more drew up again. I look’d out.