Gore sipped a little wine but finally drank the whole glass. Conniston made him take another in spite of his protestations, and then the color came back to his sunken cheeks. The poor fellow was thin with anxiety and want of sleep. When Conniston saw he was better he made him light a pipe and then sat down to hear an account of his escape. Bernard was grateful for these attentions and began to look less cowed. "You're a good friend, Dick," he said, smoking luxuriously. "This is the first moment of peace I have known since that awful moment." "How did you escape?" asked Conniston, lighting a cigarette. "I threw myself into the river and swam across." "In the fog?" "Yes. I was guided by the piers of the Chelsea Bridge. On the opposite side I took off my coat and hat and left them lying on the bank, so that it might be thought I was drowned." "Which is exactly what people do think," said Dick, complacently. "Thank Heaven for that. Well, then I went into a public-house I found open--it was not yet midnight--and made up a story about having been robbed and thrown into the river." "That was dangerous. The public-house people might have advised you to see the police." "I don't think the landlord had any love for the police," said Gore, dryly. "He looked like an old convict himself and displayed a fellow-sympathy. I don't know if he believed my story. However, for a sovereign he gave me a coat and hat, and asked no questions. I walked across Waterloo Bridge in the fog and escaped observation. But for the fog I expect my military breeches and leggings would have betrayed me and provoked questions. But I managed to escape." "I didn't sleep at all. I walked the whole night, and by dawn I was out of London. I lost myself several times in the fog and twice had a row with a tramp or two. Then I took a train at a wayside station to Gravesend, and crossed the river to Tilbury." "Didn't anyone ask questions?" Bernard shook his head. "The new Yeomanry uniform wasn't known in those parts. I expect the gaiters made people think I was a farmer. I took the train to Pitsea, and then came on here under cover of night. It was ten o'clock by the time I got here." "What did you do in the meantime?" "I loafed about the taproom of a pub, and made out I was a horse-dealer buying horses for the war. No one suspected me, and I managed to sustain my part perfectly." "Did Mrs. Moon admit you at once?" "No. She was in bed. But when she came to the door she seemed disinclined to admit me. I produced your letter, and after she read it, which took about a quarter of an hour, she let me in. Then next morning I wrote to you." "What made you think of this place, Bernard?" "I could think of nowhere to hide," said Gore, leaning back with a weary sigh. "And after all," he added, with a glance round, "this is a very good _caché_."