Into the town and the market-place it was plain sailing. Without looking at the sign “To Wesel,” the existence of which I had forgotten, I turned into the right lane, recognizing it from its general aspect. Nevertheless, the darkness made the ground which I had traversed in daylight look different.
At the cross-roads a long procession of street lamps disappeared down the street which ought to have been the right one. On my first escape I had failed to notice these standards on what then looked like a country road. They are not very conspicuous in daylight. I had had my eyes fixed upon the landscape generally, rather than upon details close to me, which had no meaning for me at that time. Furthermore, I had very soon taken a path on the left.
For the moment I was confused, and, not being able to take bearings in the dark, I walked ahead, up a lane, pondering the situation. Here were no lights, which was inviting. A woman passed me, and a moment after Wallace closed up rapidly.
“Did you see that woman?” he asked. “She turned and looked after you. She’ll inform the police. We’ve got to get off the road!”
“All right! It’s dark enough for anything. There is no danger. Just let’s get off the road and see whether anything happens.”
We waited some time, but nothing occurred. Nothing could, as a matter of fact, for we didn’t wait long enough.
“I can’t recognize this road,” I complained. “The darkness makes everything look different. We’re too far east. That road with the lamps along it is the right one, after all.”
“You’re absolutely wrong,” came the quite unexpected opposition from Wallace. “We’re too far west.”
I had only been soliloquizing aloud, to give Wallace a chance of understanding every step we took.