But these few steps had not been
taken before he heard a man's voice hailing him by name with many
execrations, and, looking over his shoulder, he beheld Charlie
Pendragon waving him with both arms to return. The shock of this
new incident was so sudden and profound, and Harry was already
worked into so high a state of nervous tension, that he could think
of nothing better than to accelerate 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.
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