thought that I was too sleepy and feeble to effect an escape, and
so held me lightly and easily enough. Past one turning, two
turnings, three turnings, four turnings, he trailed me with him,
a limp and slow and reluctant figure. At the fourth turning, I
suddenly broke from his hand and tore down the street like a
maddened stag. He was unprepared, he was heavy, and it was dark.
I ran and ran and ran, and in five minutes' running, found I was
gaining. In half an hour I was out in the fields under the holy
and blessed stars, where I tore off my accursed shawl and bonnet
and buried them in clean earth."

The old gentleman had finished his story and leant back in his
chair. Both the matter and the manner of his narration had, as
time went on, impressed me favourably. He was an old duffer and
pedant, but behind these things he was a country-bred man and
gentleman, and had showed courage and a sporting instinct in the
hour of desperation. He had told his story with many quaint
formalities of diction, but also with a very convincing realism.

"And now--" I began.

"And now," said Shorter, leaning forward again with something like
servile energy, "and now, Mr Swinburne, what about that unhappy
man Hawker. I cannot tell what those men meant, or how far what
they said was real. But surely there is danger. I cannot go to the
police, for reasons that you perceive. Among other things, they
wouldn't believe me. What is to be done?"

I took out my watch. It was already half past twelve.