"That there brown parcel——" began the policeman, argumentatively.
"I don't know anything about it," cried Didcott. "You're mistaking me for someone else. And—and it was only old clothes and things I didn't want."
"You had better explain that to the inspector," said the policeman, unmoved. "What I says is, that things look a bit fishy."
"You've no right to make me come with you," cried Didcott, despairingly.
"Come along," said the constable.
Before Didcott's mind rose a vision of police-court proceedings and newspaper paragraphs; but above all, and dwarfing everything, he seemed to see Miss Winder's scornful face. He eyed the constable, noticing that he was stout and unwieldy of build. The bridge lay silent on either side. In a moment Didcott made up his mind. Darting past the policeman, he ran headlong towards Westminster. He ran as he had never run before. The policeman started in pursuit, but gave up the chase as hopeless after a few yards; he stopped, and Didcott heard the blast of his whistle shrilling in his rear.
Like a hunted hare Didcott flashed past the Houses of Parliament, standing in grim and disapproving majesty. To his heated imagination hundreds of policemen seemed to start from the shadows and join in the pursuit. Certainly one made an effort to stop him, but Didcott dodged, and then easily distanced him. Then rushing blindly along, Didcott cannoned into another, with the result that the constable was toppled over, and Didcott, skipping over his prostrate form, continued his headlong flight. He managed to reach Victoria Street, more by luck than by any consciousness of direction, and down its electric-lit length he fled. In the distance he believed he heard the roar of pursuit.
Luckily he met no more policemen, and the few passers by made no effort to impede his progress. He ran straight, in panic-stricken haste.
To his horror, he found he had entered a blind alley. To retrace his steps seemed hopeless. He gave himself up for lost, when he noticed a little gate cut in the double doors of a work yard standing slightly ajar. He dashed through, and lay on the ground panting. He lay, he knew not how long, in a state of semi-consciousness.
At last, when the faint approach of dawn had begun to lighten the sky, he stole forth and, like a hunted thief, glided homewards to his flat.