MacIan was looking at the horizon with a rather misty look.

"I am not at all surprised," he said, "at the world being against
us. It makes me feel I was right to----"

"Yes?" said Turnbull.

"To smash your window," said MacIan. "I have woken up the world."

"Very well, then," said Turnbull, stolidly. "Let us look at a few
final facts. Beyond that hill there is comparatively clear
country. Fortunately, I know the part well, and if you will
follow me exactly, and, when necessary, on your stomach, we may
be able to get ten miles out of London, literally without meeting
anyone at all, which will be the best possible beginning, at any
rate. We have provisions for at least two days and two nights,
three days if we do it carefully. We may be able to get fifty or
sixty miles away without even walking into an inn door. I have
the biscuits and the tinned meat, and the milk. You have the
chocolate, I think? And the brandy?"

"Yes," said MacIan, like a soldier taking orders.

"Very well, then, come on. March. We turn under that third bush
and so down into the valley." And he set off ahead at a swinging
walk.

Then he stopped suddenly; for he realized that the other was not
following. Evan MacIan was leaning on his sword with a lowering
face, like a man suddenly smitten still with doubt.