to think that they had probably put in a busy day's work, carrying
messages about me.

There was a lamp on the front bracket, and as soon as I felt a little
better I took out my matches and proceeded to light it. Then, wheeling
my bike out into the roadway, I turned in the direction of Devonport
and mounted. I felt a bit shaky at first, for, apart from the fact
that I was worn out and pretty near starving, I had not been on a
machine for over three years. However, after wobbling wildly from side
to side, I managed to get the thing going, and pedalled off down the
centre of the road as steadily as my half-numbed senses would allow.

For perhaps a quarter of a mile the ground kept fairly level, then,
breasting a slight rise, I found myself at the top of a hill. I shoved
on the brake and went slowly round the first corner, where I got an
unexpected surprise. From this point the road ran straight away down
through a small village, across a bridge over the river, and up a
short steep slope on the farther side.

I took in the situation at a glance, and, releasing my brake, I let
the old bike have her head. It certainly wouldn't suit me to have to
dismount in the village and walk up the opposite slope, and I was much
too exhausted to do anything else unless I could take it in a rush.

Down I went, the machine flying noiselessly along and gathering pace
every yard. I had nearly reached the bottom and was just getting ready
to pedal, when all of a sudden, I caught sight of something that
almost paralyzed me. Right ahead, in the centre of the village square,
stood a prison warder. His back was towards me and I could see the
moonlight gleaming on the barrel of his carbine.