The lodge-gates were closed, but he knew a weak spot in the hedge; he ran up the side, scrambled through, and he was in the roadway.
He paused for a second and listened.
He could hear no footsteps now. His pursuers had not come towards the lodge.
He had gained on them a little.
He ran on still, all along the roadway, as fast as he could, and then walked.
Presently he came to a quiet spot where the trees grew by the roadside.
He crept behind the trunk of one, and stood there to rest awhile, wondering whither he could turn his footsteps to escape the hue-and-cry which he felt sure was now raised.
As George Heritage rushed past him, Marks was so astonished that for the moment he did not move.
He was about to follow him, when suddenly a cry rang across the stillness of the night:
‘Help! help! help!’