A vague, phantom figure, Harley saw the man wave his
arm, whereupon a second man joined him--a third--and, finally, a
fourth.
Harley clenched his teeth grimly, and as the ominous quartet
began to move toward the left, he resumed his slow retreat to the
right--going ever farther away, of necessity, from the only
centre with which he was acquainted and from which he could hope
to summon assistance. Finally he reached a milestone resting
almost against the railings of the Manor Park.
Drawing a deep breath, he sprang upon the milestone, succeeded in
grasping the top of the high iron railings, and hauled himself up
bodily.
Praying that the turf might be soft, he jumped. Fit though he
was, and hardened by physical exercise, the impact almost stunned
him. He came down like an acrobat--left foot, right foot, and
then upon his hands, but nevertheless he lay there for a moment
breathless and temporarily numbed by the shock.
In less than a minute he was on his feet again and looking
alertly about him. Striking into the park land, turning to the
left, and paralleling the highroad, he presently came out upon
the roadway, along which under shelter of a straggling hedge, he
began to double back. In sight of the road dipping down to Lower
Claybury he crossed, forcing his way through a second hedge
thickly sown with thorns.
Badly torn, but careless of such minor injuries, he plunged
heavily through a turnip field, and, bearing always to the left,
came out finally upon the road leading to the station, and only
some fifty yards from the bottom of the declivity.
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