gates, and ran to see what was the matter. He found the cab overturned
and the horse with a 'bus pole driven deep into its side, kicking on
the pavement. Thomas Sims lay beneath the cab. When the police and
others dragged him clear, he was quite dead!



Godfrey went to bed that night a very weary and chastened youth, for
never before had he experienced so many emotions in a few short hours.
Moreover, he could not sleep well. Nightmares haunted him in which he
was being hunted and mocked by a jeering crowd, until Sims arrived and
rescued him in the cab. Only it was the dead Sims that drove with
staring eyes and fallen jaw, and the side of the horse was torn open.

Next he saw Isobel and the Knight in Armour, who kept pace on either
side of the ghostly cab and mocked at him, tossing roses to each other
as they sped along, until finally his father appeared, called Isobel a
young serpent, at which she laughed loudly, and bore off Sims to be
buried in the vault with the Plantagenet lady at Monk's Acre.

Godfrey woke up shaking with fear, wet with perspiration, and
reflected earnestly on his latter end, which seemed to be at hand. If
that great, burly, raucous-voiced Sims had died so suddenly, why
should not he, Godfrey?

He wondered where Sims had gone to, and what he was doing now.
Explaining the matter of the half-sovereign to St. Peter, perhaps, and
hoping humbly that it and others would be overlooked, "since after all
he had done the right thing by the young gent."