nd he was safely in that
garden and behind the thick shrubs which ran along one of its high
walls. Yet another and he was out of the garden, and in an old-fashioned
orchard which ran, thick with trees, to the very edge of the coppices at
the foot of the Shawl. Once in that orchard, screened by its
close-branched, low-spreading boughs, leafless though they were at that
period of the year, he paused to get his breath, and to chuckle over the
success of his scheme. What a mercy, what blessing, he thought, that
they had not searched him on his arrest!--that they had delayed that
interesting ceremony until his committal! The omission, he knew, had
been winked at--purposely--and it had left him with his precious
waistcoat, his revolver, and the key that had opened his prison door.

Dusk had fallen over Highmarket before the hearing came to an end, and
it was now dark. Mallalieu knew that he had little time to lose--but he
also knew that his pursuers would have hard work to catch him. He had
laid his plans while the last two witnesses were in the box: his
detailed knowledge of the town and its immediate neighbourhood stood in
good stead. Moreover, the geographical situation of the Town Hall was a
great help. He had nothing to do but steal out of the orchard into the
coppices, make his way cautiously through them into the deeper wood
which fringed the Shawl, pass through that to the ridge at the top, and
gain the moors. Once on those moors he would strike by devious way for
Norcaster--he knew a safe place in the Lower Town there where he could
be hidden for a month, three months, six months, without fear of
discovery, and from whence he could get away by ship.

All was quiet as he passed through a gap in the orchard hedge and stole
into the coppices. He kept stealthily but swiftly along through the pine
and fir until he came to the wood which covered the higher part of the
Shawl. The trees were much thicker there, the brakes and bushes were
thicker, and the darkness was greater. He was obliged to move at a
slower pace--and suddenly he heard men's voices on the lower slopes
beneath him. He paused catching his breath and listening. And then, just
as suddenly as he had heard the voices, he felt a hand, firm, steady,
sinewy, fasten on his wrist and stay there.

CHAPTER XXIII

COMFORTABLE CAPTIVITY

The tightening of that sinewy grip on Mallalieu's wrist so startled him
that it was only by a great effort that he restrai