Then the wise woman's warnings flashed across him with vivid distinctness. Had she not bidden him beware of just those perils which he seemed resolved to court? Why had he forgotten or disregarded her words? Had they not proved words of wisdom again and again? And now here was he on the dark-flowing river alone, unarmed save for the dagger in his belt, and far from all chance of help. Just behind was a boat in hot pursuit, and there were many rowers in that boat, as the sounds told him. If he could hear their oars, they could hear his. And though the twilight was creeping on, the fog seemed to be lifting. Only the vapour wreaths hid him from the gaze of his foes. If these were to be dispersed his last chance was gone. The river was absolutely lonely and deserted at this time of year and at this spot. Lower down, schooners and barges were moored. Near to the bridge he might have had some hope of being heard had he shouted aloud for aid; here there was no such hope. He was away on the Lambeth side: there were no houses and no boats of any kind. His only chance lay in reaching the shore, springing to land, and trusting to his fleetness to carry him into hiding. The lonely house could not be far away. Perchance within its walls he might find a hiding place, or gain admittance within its doors. At least that was the only chance he had; and inspired by this thought he drove his light wherry swiftly through the water, and felt the keel grate against the bank almost before he was prepared for it. The pursuers were still coming on, but did not appear to be distressing themselves. Probably they felt so secure of their prey that they could afford to be moderately cautious in the midst of these fog wreaths that made river travelling somewhat perilous. Cuthbert shipped his oars and sprang lightly ashore, leaving the wherry to its fate. Then he raced like a hunted hare along the margin of the river, and before five minutes had passed he had scrambled up and leaped the wall of this lonely river-side house, and was crouching breathless and exhausted in a thick covert upon the farther side, straining his ears for sounds of pursuit. These were not long in coming. He heard regular steps approaching the wall, and a voice said: "Here are the tracks. He got over here. Follow, and find him now. He is in a trap!" "Am I indeed in a trap?" thought Cuthbert, setting his teeth hard; "that remains to be proved!" And gliding out from the covert with that noiseless movement he had learned during his residence in the forest, he raced like a veritable shadow in the direction of the house.