Away went pursuer and pursued.
The terror-stricken Murray got over the ground like a hare, and although the coiner was fleet of foot, he was at first distanced in the race.
It became a desperate race between them.
Lenoir tore on.
He would have his betrayer now or perish.
But before he had got more than two hundred yards the pace began to tell upon him.
He felt that he would have to give in.
"I must go easier, or I shall fail altogether."
So reasoning, he slackened his pace, and dropped into that slinging trot that runners in France know as the pas gymnastique.
If your strength and wind are of average quality, you can keep up for a prodigious time at that.