Nightmares haunted him in which he was being hunted and mocked by a jeering crowd, until Sims arrived and rescued him in the cab.

Only it was the dead Sims that drove with staring eyes and fallen jaw, and the side of the horse was torn open.
Next he saw Isobel and the Knight in Armour, who kept pace on either side of the ghostly cab and mocked at him, tossing roses to each other as they sped along, until finally his father appeared, called Isobel a young serpent, at which she laughed loudly, and bore off Sims to be buried in the vault with the Plantagenet lady at Monk's Acre.
Godfrey woke up shaking with fear, wet with perspiration, and reflected earnestly on his latter end, which seemed to be at hand.

If that great, burly, raucous-voiced Sims had died so suddenly, why should not he, Godfrey?
He wondered where Sims had gone to, and what he was doing now.
Explaining the matter of the half-sovereign to St.Peter, perhaps, and hoping humbly that it and others would be overlooked, "since after all he had done the right thing by the young gent." Poor Sims, he was sorry for him, but it might have been worse.

_He_ might have been in the cab himself and now be offering explanations of his own as to a wild desire to kill that knight in armour, and Isobel as well.

Oh! what a fool he had been.