Nevertheless he determined to have another try. It would be maddening to get so far and have to return with nothing done. He strode stealthily in what he imagined to be the direction of the house. The fog had stiffened even more, and now it was scarcely possible to see a foot-pace in front of him. Something stirred a pace or two to his right hand and halting in his tracks he turned his face in that direction and peered into the mist. He thought he could see an indistinct mass low on the ground. Could it be that after all the pursuit had not been given up? On the instant he sprang at whoever or whatever it was. A frightened half-muffled scream and he was grappling with some unresisting and yielding body. Then he half-understood and abandoned his grip with a shock of surprise. "Good heavens, a woman! Miss Noelson! You!" "Mr. Labar!" She stared at him, as though at some apparition. A sudden clamour broke out at the house. She was on her feet now, and clutched wildly at his hand. "They have found out that I have gone. They were holding me there a prisoner. When the dog gave the alarm just now they left the gate open and I slipped out. You mustn't let them catch me again. Come." She dragged at his hand. "We must get away." It was no time for full explanations. Hand in hand they turned and fled heedlessly into the white blanket of the fog. The dyke that had served Labar so well barred their progress. He swung the girl in his powerful grip on to his shoulders and carried her across. A gun shot echoed suddenly, and he laughed. "Firing at a bullock I should imagine. That ought to keep them occupied. Keep on going. You're perfectly safe now. They'll never get us if we keep on." He felt the girl's pace slacken, and linked his arm in hers to help her to maintain the pace. Thrice he had to lift her over dykes, and ever she became slower and slower while her breath came with difficulty. Then he felt her pause and sink in his grip. "It's no use. I can't do it," she gasped. "Leave me here. I shall be all right. You go on." He let her sink to the damp grass, and stood for a moment poised in fierce concentration. Dimly in the distance he could hear the muffled sounds made by the pursuit. "I think we are safe enough for the time," he said. "It would be a million to one chance if they lit on us in this. We might as well stay here for a while." "Couldn't you leave me and go and get help?" she asked. He laughed grimly. "I wouldn't leave you in any event," he said, "but, if I wanted to, I couldn't. We are completely lost." CHAPTER XXIII He took off his old tweed coat and, in spite of her protests, made her put it on to protect her from the clammy cold of the fog. Making her as comfortable as possible on the damp earth, he lit a cigarette and paced meditatively to and fro in short staccato strides, ever and again throwing a thoughtful glance upon the girl.