CHAPTER IX.
THE FLIGHT The two dark figures stood an instant, breathless, in the dark mouth of the cavern beneath the marble balustraded stairway that ascended with chaste dignity to Mrs.De Peyster's noble front door.

Swiftly they surveyed the scene.

Not a policeman was in sight: no one save, across the way on Washington Square benches, a few plebeian lovers enjoying the soft calm of a May eleven o'clock.
The pair, with veils down, each looking a plagiarism of the other, slipped out of the servants' entrance, through the gate of the low iron fence, and arm clutching arm hastened eastward to University Place.

Thus far no one had challenged them.

Here they turned and went rapidly northward: past the Lafayette, where Mrs.De Peyster's impulse to take a taxicab was instantly countermanded by the fear that so near her home there was danger of recognition: and onward, onward they went, swiftly, wordlessly, their one commanding impulse to get away--to get away.
At Fourteenth Street they passed a policeman.