The carriage is as black as the hour after midnight. It stands in the rain, silent on the wet cobbles of the street. The seats are buttoned and stuffed, and a violet silk canopy stretches over the cabin. Instantly, in a snap of harness and linkage, the carriage shaft lifts from the ground. It lurches forward on its large wooden wheels and picks up speed. You hear the hard clop of many hooves, yet see no horses.
