his pace and
continue running. He should certainly have remembered the scene in
Kensington Gardens; he should certainly have concluded that, where the
General was his enemy, Charlie Pendragon could be no other than a
friend. But such was the fever and perturbation of his mind that he was
struck by none of these considerations, and only continued to run the
faster up the lane.

Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile terms that he hurled
after the secretary, was obviously beside himself with rage. He, too,
ran his very best; but, try as he might, the physical advantages were
not upon his side, and his outcries and the fall of his lame foot on the
macadam began to fall farther and farther into the wake.

Harry's hopes began once more to arise. The lane was both steep and
narrow, but it was exceedingly solitary, bordered on either hand by
garden walls, overhung with foliage; and, for as far as the fugitive
could see in front of him, there was neither a creature moving nor an
open door. Providence, weary of persecution, was now offering him an
open field for his escape.

Alas! as he came abreast of a garden door under a tuft of chestnuts, it
was suddenly drawn back, and he could see inside, upon a garden path,
the figure of a butcher's boy with his tray upon his arm. He had hardly
recognised the fact before he was some steps beyond upon the other side.
But the fellow had had time to observe him; he was evidently much
surprised to see a gentleman go by at so unusual a pace; and he came out
into the lane and began to call after Harry with shouts of ironical
encouragement.

His appearance gave a new idea to Charlie Pendragon, who, although he
was now sadly out of breath, once more upraised his voice.

"Stop, thief!" he cried.

And immediately the butcher's boy had taken up the cry and joined in the
pursuit.

This was a bitter moment for the hunted secretary. It is true that his
terror enabled him once more to improve his pace, and gain with every
step on his pursuers; but he was well aware that he was near the end of
his resources, and should he meet any one coming the other way, his
predicament in the narrow lane would be desperate indeed.

"I must find a place of concealment," he thought, "and that within the
next few seconds, or all is over with me in this world."

Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind than the lane took a sudden
turning, and he found himself hidden from his enemies. There are
circu