But a little later, Amaryllis, turning in her seat, thought she saw a small cloud of dust start up from the road; and Dick, on the assumption of a pursuit almost as swift as his flight, found himself involved in the solution of complex chances.
The road he followed, as he had been able to determine from the higher ground, led directly to the railway station in the centre of Harthborough. It was now five minutes past five o'clock—ten minutes before the train's scheduled time of departure; which, allowing two minutes for reaching the station, would mean eight minutes to spend on the platform, even if the train were up to time.
Eight minutes for the men with the side-car to reach the station and——
And what?
Even the intoxicated Melchard, should it come to gun-play on platform or in railway carriage, would be no protection to Amaryllis. If the picket had been able to distinguish their leader in his car as it flashed by them, they must have guessed him a prisoner, and, as such, the probable King's evidence to hang them.
For his satellites, Melchard was safer dead than captive.
Just ahead the road branched. Resolved to shorten his time of waiting, and hoping to mislead the chase, Dick took the right line of the fork, which bent to hide him, if only for a moment, from the side-car.
"The station's down the other road," said Amaryllis.
"Yes," said Dick. "Don't want more than three minutes there before the train pulls out."
He slowed suddenly, having seen his expected by-road a little way ahead.