"Who'd sooner drive?
You, young Batchelor?
All right; off with your coat!" And he threw himself on me in a pugilistic attitude.
After a long delay we got once more under way, the vehicle travelling more unsteadily than ever, and my misgivings as to ever reaching London becoming momentarily more numerous.
How we ever got back I can't imagine, unless it was that after a time Whipcord finally dropped the reins and allowed the horse to find its own way home.

He certainly thought he was driving, but I fancy the truth was that one of the ostlers on the road, seeing his condition, had cunningly looped the reins round the front rail of the trap, so that, drive all he would, he could not do much more harm than if he was sitting idle.
At length the lateness of the hour and the frequent lights announced that London must be near.

It was fortunate it was so late, or we should certainly have come to grief in the first crowded street.

As it was, Whipcord had already got command of the reins again, as the sudden jerks and shies of the horse testified.
My impulse was to avoid the danger by quietly jumping down from my seat and leaving the other two to proceed alone.

But somehow it seemed a shabby proceeding to leave Hawkesbury in the lurch, besides which, even if I had overcome that scruple, the seat was so high that at the unsteady rate we were going I would run considerable risk by jumping.
So I determined to hold on and hope for the best.
We got safely down Oxford Street, thanks to its emptiness, and were just proceeding towards Holborn, when Whipcord gave his horse a sudden turn down a side street to the right.
"Where are you going ?" I cried; "it's straight on." He pulled up immediately, and bidding Hawkesbury hold the reins, pulled off his coat for the twentieth time, and invited me to come and have it out on the pavement.
"Don't be a fool," said Hawkesbury; "drive on now, there's a good fellow." "What does he want to tell me which way to drive for ?" demanded the outraged charioteer.
"He didn't mean to offend you--did you, Batchelor?
Drive on now, Whipcord, and get out of this narrow street." With much persuasion Whipcord resumed his coat and seized the reins.
"Thinks I don't know the way to drive," he growled.