Shrewsbury by Stanley J. Weyman

My lord, I found, had a coach, without arms or insignia, waiting for him at the Great Turnstile in Holborn; where, if persons recognised him as he alighted, he would be taken to have business with the lawyers in Lincoln's Inn, or at my Lord Somers's in the Fields. Following him to the coach on foot, I never saw a man walk in more deep or anxious thought. He took no heed of me, after bidding me by a gesture to attend him; but twice he stood in doubt, and once he made as if he would return whence he had come, and once as if he would cross the Fields -- I think to Powis House. In the end he went on, and arriving at the coach, the door of which was opened for him by a footman in a plain livery, he bade me by a sign to follow him into it. This I was not for doing, thinking it too great an honour; but on his crying impatiently, "Man, how do you think I am to talk to you if you ride outside? " I hastened to enter, in equal confusion and humility.

Nevertheless, some time elapsed, and we had travelled the length of Holborn before he spoke. Then rousing himself on a sudden from his preoccupation, he looked at me. "Do you know a man called Barclay? " said he.