Those men had
schemed as I have schemed, and worked as I have worked, and waited as I
have waited--to fail like me!"
He had walked far from the West-end, into some dreary road eastward of
the City, choosing by some instinct the quietest streets, before he was
calm enough to contemplate the perils of his position, or to decide
upon the course he should take.
A few minutes' reflection told him that he must fly--Douglas Dale would
doubtless hunt him as a wild beast is hunted. Where was he to go? Was
there any lair, or covert, in all that wide city where he might be
safely hidden from the vengeance of the man he had wronged so deeply?
He remembered Captain Halkard's letter. He dragged the crumpled sheet
of paper from his pocket, and read a few lines. Yes: it was as he had
thought. The "Pandion" was to leave Gravesend at five o'clock next
morning.
"I will go to the ice-graves and the bears!" he exclaimed. "Let them
track me there!"
Energetic always, no less energetic even in this hour of desperation,
he made his way down to the sailors' quarter, and spent his few last
pounds in the purchase of a scanty outfit. After doing this, he dined
frugally at a quiet tavern, and then took the steamer for Gravesend.
He slept on board the "Pandion." The place offered him had not been
filled by any one else. It was not a very tempting post, or a very
tempting expedition.
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