“I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers. Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings.
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