a door, and down the dark road, and I was not a foot behind him.

"You are quite sure, Carré?" he panted, as we ran.

"Quite sure. His eyes drew mine, and I knew him as he knew me."

"Never knew him to go there before. Devil's luck he should be there
to-night."

I think it no shame to confess to a very great fear, for of a surety, now,
the earth was not large enough for this man and me. I held his life in my
hand as surely as though he were but a grasshopper, and he knew it. And he
was strong with the strength of many purposeful men behind him, every man
as heartless as himself, and Le Marchant and I were but two. My head swam
at thought of the odds between us, and hope grew sick in me.

My sole idea of escape, under the spur of that great fear, had been to get
to the boat and make for home. But Le Marchant, having less at stake,--so
far as he knew at all events,--had his wits more in hand, and used them to
better purpose. For, supposing we got away all right in the dark, Torode's
schooner could sail four feet to our one, and if he sighted us we should be
completely at his mercy, a most evil and cruel thing to trust to. Then,
too, there was La Hague, with its fierce waves, and beyond it the wild Race
of Alderney with its contrarieties and treacheries,--ill things to tackle
even in a ship of size. Le Marchant thought on these things, and before we
were into the town he panted them out, and turned off suddenly to the left
and made for the open country.

"We'll strike right through to Carteret," he jerked. "The boat must go....
He'll look for us in the town and the wind's against him for La Hague....