The Escape of the Notorious Sir William Heans by William Gosse Hay

When Heans reached his attic that night, he found Mrs. Quaid waiting, wild and tragical, among the classic furniture. She handed him a letter which she said had been left two hours previous by what she described as "a garringson gentleman in a cloak." "Bad news or good," she said, "I would not let him past the door, especially as he seemed undecided in his purposes. He spoke amiable however. Presently he asked if he might sit a bit 'in Sir William's room,' and I showed him into Mr. Boxley's sittingroom, where I left him staring at the ancient ALMANACS. At last he summoned me and said he was afraid he could not wait, but left a message that he would be in the Private Secketry's Office at Government House on Monday morning, if Sir William Heans would be pleased to call."

Heans approached the hooded windows with the letter. Mrs. Quaid removed her doubting old face through the doorway. The gusts were huddling past the dormers, and an old prisoner in grey hobbled across the street below, with his head bowed to meet them. A dull evening was closing in. There was a remote noise of hoofs, and a stout man in a caped overcoat, with a singularly rough, sly face and a small chimney-pot on his head, rode down the street, slopping forward in his saddle, and staring about him at the houses with wide, short-sighted eyes. Sir William, as he opened the letter in his hand, saw this fellow twitch his heavy horse about and come slowly back up the street.