These and many other thoughts buzzed like distracting bees through Owain's brain as he fled from that awful place. All his idea was to get away, to reach some other railway station, to hide in London, and remain quiet until he saw what the police would do. But on the face of it, he would be safe nowhere; yet with the instinct of self-preservation he plunged onward through the wood in the hope of escape. Hench was a brave man, and had faced many dangers, but to be hanged for a crime which he had not committed, to be entangled in circumstances over which he had no control, made him choose the least of two evils. Once or twice he halted in his headlong flight wondering if it would not be best to return and give himself up to the village policeman, as, after all, he had no motive to kill the man and moreover could produce the advertisement. But the resolution was momentary. He simply could not face the trouble, even though he did his best to screw up his courage to the sticking point. Wiping his forehead, he drew a long breath and strode onward. It was too late now to think of returning, as the body might already have been found. All he could do was to walk on and on and on, in the hope of leaving terror behind. After leaving the wood, Hench found himself traversing other meadows similar to that near Cookley church, These bordered a narrow lane, into which a stile afforded him access. From this lane he gained the high-road, and from a sign-post learned that it would conduct him to London. At first Owain intended to walk on until he arrived at the nearest railway station, for there was yet time to catch a late train to town. But on reflection he decided to use his legs, as there would be less danger in solitary pedestrianism than in venturing to ask for a ticket at a local station, where his appearance might be observed. Also the night was warm, the moon gave her full light, and the journey to London would be more pleasurable on foot than it would be were he cooped up in a train. Besides, he was much too agitated by what he had gone through to sit quiet under the gaze of fellow-travellers. Innocent though he was, conscience made a coward of him, and he knew that every careless eye cast upon him would make him wince. He was safer to walk, so walk he did.