To my horror I had seen Mr. Turton and Augustus walking along the middle of the road, each carrying an umbrella; Mr. Turton had an anxious expression on his pale, bearded face. As I crouched, peeping between the bottles of sweets in the window, I saw them pass the gate and come to a standstill. They had the manner of persons on the look-out for some one, and it seemed impossible to doubt that the some one was myself.
I confess that I felt surprised. Why should Mr. Turton want me back at Castlemore, unless, indeed, for the sake of taking revenge for my flight? At least, I could conceive no other reason, and while feeling deeply thankful for my narrow escape, I determined to spare no effort to make this effectual. That Mr. Turton should have hit upon my precise locality did not appear very remarkable.
These thoughts passed through my mind in far less time than it takes to set them down on paper. I remembered that my friend on the bicycle had said that all roads led to London, and now the idea occurred that the best way to evade Mr. Turton and yet to attain my purpose, would be to make a dash across to some other main road, keeping almost paralled with my pursuers.
After appearing to hesitate in the middle of the road, only a few yards from my hiding-place, Augustus and his father approached the door of the opposite butcher's shop, presumably with the intention of inquiring whether a boy of my description had been seen in the place. I regretted now my short conversation with the grocer, who had nodded to me in a friendly way as I came home from church on Sunday, and no doubt had seen me enter Mrs. Riddles' cottage.
If he directed Mr. Turton thither, I was lost, unless I could succeed in leaving Polehampton before the Turtons came out again. Now, close to the station yard was a lane, which led I knew not whither, but at least it could be reached without passing the opposite shops. Opening the door, as Mr. Turton left the butcher's and entered the grocer's, while his back and his son's were towards me, I made a dash through the garden, turned to my right, nor looked behind until I had reached the other side of the street. Then to my alarm I saw Mrs. Riddles standing at her door, which I had just left, while Mr. Turton and Augustus were hurrying across the roadway towards her. Fortunately they seemed too excited to look about them, so that I guessed that the grocer had set them on my track.
Taking to my heels I sped down the lane, soon leaving the few cottages behind and finding myself between low hedges with wheat growing on one hand and sheep-turnips on the other. A short distance ahead, I saw a butcher's cart on the point of leaving a cottage door.
'Are you going straight on?' I cried to the boy, only a little older than myself, who was driving.
'What if I am?' he demanded.
'You might give me a lift, that's all.'
'Oh yes, I dare say!' he answered.