At a quarter
to eight the Secretary turned out of Holborn, and when he came a
little nearer, Zachariah saw that at a distance of fifty yards there
was a constable following him. He came on slowly until he was
abreast of a narrow court, when suddenly there was a pistol-shot, and
he was dead on the pavement. Zachariah's first impulse was to rush
forward, but he saw the constable running, followed by others, and he
discerned in an instant that to attempt to assist would lead to his
own arrest and do no good. He managed, however, to reach the Major,
and for two or three moments they stood stock-still on the edge of
the pavement struck with amazement. Presently a woman passed them
with a thick veil over her face.
"Home," she said; "don't stay here like fools. Pack up your things
and be off. You'll be in prison to-morrow morning."
"Be off!" gasped Zachariah; "be off!--where?"
"Anywhere!" and she had gone.
The constables, after putting the corpse in a hackney coach,
proceeded to the room; but it was dark and empty. They had no
directions to do anything more that night, and returned to Bow
Street. The next morning, however, as soon as it was light, a
Secretary of State's warrant, backed by sufficient force, was
presented at the lodgings of Caillaud and Zachariah.
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