She could hear footsteps now, deliberate steps, coming closer. A slight sound behind her brought her head round with a jerk, but she could see nothing.
The footsteps passed the bush; she could just perceive the darker shadow of a man's form. He stopped and stood still, listening, she guessed. The light he carried began to describe a circle; she wondered how dense the bushes were, whether dense enough to conceal her.
The man moved; he was coming round the bush. Her thumb felt for the safety-catch; she stayed still, waiting.
Then the boding silence was broken by a sound so incongruous that it came as a shock to her. Someone not far away was whistling "The Blue Danube."
The light disappeared; a faint rustle, the brush of a body passing through high bracken came to Shirley's cars, followed by complete silence. The whistle died away, the shadow had gone.
It was minutes before she dared to move. She crept forward in the direction where she judged the ride to be, stopping every few paces to stand still and listen. The light was no longer visible; it had vanished altogether, scared away by the sound of a waltz tune whistled in the distance.
She walked on, thrusting her way through the undergrowth, still not daring to use the torch.
No light warned her that she was still being followed. Several times she thought that she could hear the sound of a panting breath not far behind; once a twig cracked ominously, but when she stood still, peering behind her, she could see nothing and hear nothing.
She moved forward again; again she heard the heavy breathing, closer at hand now.
She fled on and stumbled out onto the ride. With the close turf under her feet and the dim outlines of the trees on either side to guide her she broke into a run.