Laughter was smothered, talk whispered.
"He'm a-practisin' his spaches." "Smoke the cunnin' old vox out!" "Red pepper's the proper stuff." "See men sneeze! We've a-screed up the door." Then, as a face showed at the lighted window, a burst of harsh laughter broke the hush.
He at the window was seen struggling violently to wrench away a bar.
The laughter swelled to hooting.

The prisoner forced his way through, dropped to the ground, rose, staggered, and fell.
A voice said sharply: "What's this ?" Out of the sounds of scuffling and scattering came the whisper: "His lordship!" And the shade under the ash-trees became deserted, save by the tall dark figure of a man, and a woman's white shape.
"Is that you, Mr.Courtier?
Are you hurt ?" A chuckle rose from the recumbent figure.
"Only my knee.

The beggars! They precious nearly choked me, though.".