There were turnings and checks, and more than once the cab was nearly lost; but the driver he had knew his work, and twice over, when Huish was about to leap out and continue the pursuit on foot, there was the cab on ahead.
Over a bridge, and then down a turning for a short cut. Yes, he must be making for Waterloo Station; and as Huish sprang out he saw the man he sought at the ticket-office, and darted towards him.
The fugitive looked round in the act of taking his ticket, saw the wild face of Huish, and turned and fled, with his pursuer hunting him like a dog and close upon his heels.
Without a moment’s hesitation, on reaching the platform, he ran to the right, doubled back along the next, leaped down on the line, crossed it, reached the next platform, doubled again in and out, amidst the shouts of the porters, passed through a tangle of trains and empty carriages, and so reached again another platform, before glancing back to find Huish doggedly on his track.
A wild, strange look of horror came into his face as he glanced around him, seeking which way to go, and for the moment he made for the way down to the waterside by Hungerford Bridge; but a train was on the point of starting—not the one for which he had taken a ticket, but anywhere would do, so that he could get away from the madman who hunted him like fate.
He dashed to the gate just as it was closed, and the stern official uttered the words. “Too late.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that John Huish was within ten yards, and half a dozen porters in pursuit. Had he possessed the presence of mind now to face him, he had but to say. “This is an escaped lunatic,” to see Huish secured.
But his nerve was gone, and in his horror he glanced wildly from place to place, ran a few yards, dashed through another gate, and ran along another platform just as the train was gliding away by the next.
Shouts and orders to stop reached him, but they fell upon ears that heard nothing, and, boldly leaping down at the end of the platform, he ran along the line, caught the handle of one of the carriages about the middle of the train, and climbed on to the footboard.
“Safe!” he muttered. “Curse him! he is a devil incarnate!”