At first there were nearly a dozen lighted windows in Crayminster. They went out one by one. He hung for a long time with a passionate earnestness on the sole surviving one, but that too went at last. He could have wept when at last it winked out. He came down into the marshy flats by the river, but he did not like the way in which the water sucked and swirled in the vague moonlight; also he suddenly discovered a great white horse standing quite still in the misty grass not thirty yards away; so he went up to and crossed the high road and wandered up the hillside towards the allotments, which attracted him by reason of the sociability of the numerous tool sheds. In a hedge near at hand a young rabbit squealed sharply and was stilled. Why? Then something like a short snake scrabbled by very fast through the grass. Then he thought he saw the tramp stalking him noiselessly behind some currant bushes. That went on for some time, but came to nothing. Then nothing pursued him, nothing at all. The gap, the void, came after him. The bodiless, the faceless, the formless; these are evil hunters in the night.... What a cold still _watching_ thing moonlight can be!... He thought he would like to get his back against something solid, and found near one of the sheds a little heap of litter. He sat down against good tarred boards, assured at least that whatever came must come in front. Whatever he did, he was resolved, he would not shut his eyes. That would be fatal.... He awoke in broad daylight amidst a cheerful uproar of birds. § 6 And then again flight and pursuit were resumed. As Bealby went up the hill away from Crayminster he saw a man standing over a spade and watching his retreat and when he looked back again presently this man was following. It was Lady Laxton’s five pound reward had done the thing for him. He was half minded to surrender and have done with it, but jail he knew was a dreadful thing of stone and darkness. He would make one last effort. So he beat along the edge of a plantation and then crossed it and forced his way through some gorse and came upon a sunken road, that crossed the hill in a gorse-lined cutting. He struggled down the steep bank. At its foot, regardless of him, unaware of him, a man sat beside a motor bicycle with his fists gripped tight and his head downcast, swearing. A county map was crumpled in his hand. “Damn!” he cried, and flung the map to the ground and kicked it and put his foot on it. Bealby slipped, came down the bank with a run and found himself in the road within a couple of yards of the blond features and angry eyes of Captain Douglas. When he saw the Captain and perceived himself recognized, he flopped down—a done and finished Bealby.... § 7 He had arrived just in time to interrupt the Captain in a wild and reprehensible fit of passion.