three minutes before
ten
I had chosen this route for the reason that we have no organisation in Holland : the nearest circle is in Brussels , and if there had been time , the Brussels circle would have been warned to keep an eye on me . There was , however , no time for a letter , and anarchists never use the telegraph , especially so far as the Continent is concerned , unless in cases of the greatest emergency . If they telegraphed my description to Brussels the chances were it would not be an anarchist who watched my landing , but a member of the Belgian police force . The 8.30 Continental express does not stop between Liverpool Street and Parkeston Quay , which it is timed to reach three minutes before ten . This gave me an hour and a half in which to change my apparel . The garments of the poor old professor I rolled up into a ball one by one and flung out through the open window , far into the marsh past which we were flying in a pitch dark night . Coat , trousers , and waistcoat rested in separate swamps at least ten miles apart .