A BAD LOT. 
“It will save me a minute or two. Besides, 
1 shall be safer there such a day as this 
than on the high road, and I have time to 
rest for a minute or two. 1 must do that, 
whatever comes of it. I feel as if I could 
scarcely lift my feet.” 
But before he moved he sighed heavily, 
and again passed his hand over his frowning 
brow. 
“ My brain is all in a muddle,” he went on, 
under his breath. “ 1 can't remember whether 
1 told that brute where mother lives. 1 don’t 
think so, but 1 can’t remember. If I did, 
there may be detectives at Euston already, 
and my face is pretty well known to the 
police.” 
With a halting, dragging step he crossed 
the road and passed stealthily and softly 
through the entrance on to the hill, and then 
with a sickening sense of dread he stopped 
again. The mist was very thick where he 
stood, but it was less dense in places, and 
close to the side of the lodge he could dimly 
discern the figures of two men, and as he 
paused in sudden terror their words came to 
him distinctly. 
“ Didn’t you hear something then, Bill ? ” 
“ 1 thought 1 did,” was the hoarse reply, 
“ but that blessed motor on the road con- 
fused me.” 
u The chaps are at the other gate, too, 
aren’t they ? ” 
“ Yes, we are pretty near certain of catch- 
ing him. lie’s almost bound to try to get 
out of one of these lower gates.” 
“ But isn’t there anyone at the gate over 
the hill, then ? ” 
“ Yes, there’s a bobby on point there. 
They can’t spare any more of us, but we ought 
to be two and two for this job. lie’s a pretty 
tough customer to tackle. Hush ! I thought 
I heard something then. II we struck across 
the grass where there are no lights we should 
miss him to a certainty. If only this infernal 
fog would lift I ” 
With beating heart and grimly-set teeth, 
stealing softly to the side of the gravel path, 
Francis Denham stepped over the low rail 
which separated it from the green sward, 
and moved noiselessly over the reeking turf, 
lie knew the gate he must make for. With 
his eyes shut he could have found it. Only 
one man guarded that, it seemed, and in 
the darkness he might slip past him ; but the 
steep slope of the high hill tried his enfeebled 
physical powers terribly, and presently he 
halted by the side of an old-fashioned wooden 
seat. 
With a weary moan he sank down upon it, 
J5 1 
and as he did so one of the rain-sodden rails 
moved under him. Rising with some diffi- 
culty, he peered closely at the wooden bench. 
One of the thick laths was broken in the 
middle. With a wrench he pulled it away, 
and panting with the slight exertion, 
reseated himself, and extracted the one 
or two rusty long nails which still adhered 
to it. 
Then, placing the rough, heavy bit of wood 
across his knees, lie drew his coat ('loser round 
him and leant back to rest, but there was 
a gleam in the eyes which now stared into 
the white mist, and a tense grimness in the 
set mouth which had not been there before. 
Francis Denham was no longer entirely 
helpless, since he was now provided with 
a formidable weapon. He did not wish to use 
it or to injure any man, but this time lie would 
fight for his liberty, and if he lost his life in 
the struggle — well, perhaps so much the better. 
Imprisonment he felt, he could not and would 
not face again. 
His reasoning faculties were still befogged 
and out of gear, but so far as this he realized 
his position entirely. He was resolved 
to fight to the death for freedom, and for 
the opportunity to look upon his mother 
once again. 
How these men had traced him already 
he did not attempt to unravel. He knew 
it had taken him over two hours to walk 
the five miles, and that probably his theft 
had been discovered almost immediately, 
but why they should have made up their 
minds that he would attempt to cross the hill 
he could not imagine, though it was almost 
certain to him now that he must have indirectly 
put Euston Station into their minds as his 
goal ; and had lie not been twitted and teased 
with talking in his sleep by the night atten- 
dants at the infirmary ? Yes ; that must be 
the explanation, lie decided at length ; he had 
many a time dreamed of that green hill, and 
of the friend with whom he had walked there 
in loving companionship, and had waked with 
the tears running down his face. And when 
they had laughed at him he had scowled at 
them and hated them. 
For several minutes Francis Denham sat 
there immersed in painful thought, every now 
and then falling into an exhausted doze ; but 
presently the church clock chimed the first 
quarter, and, still clutching the piece of wood, 
he pulled himself to his feet. He must push 
on now ; he might have to wait some minutes 
for the train to Euston. But when he gained 
the top of the hill he was forced to pause once 
more. 
