Harry was the first to gasp out:
"Has my father arrived?"
"Not yet."
Harry threw himself down on the short grass, with an exclamation of
thankfulness.
"I have run nearly every foot of the way," he said, as soon as he
got his breath a little. "I had awful difficulty in getting out.
One of the constables kept in the same room with me, and followed
me wherever I went. They evidently thought I might hear from my
father, or try to send him a message. At last, I got desperate, and
ran upstairs to that room next mine, and closed and locked the door
after me. You know the ivy grows high up the wall there, and
directly I got in, I threw open the casement and climbed down by
it. It gave way two or three times, and I thought I was gone, but I
stuck to it, and managed each time to get a fresh hold. The moment
I was down, I ran along by the foot of the wall until I got round
behind, made a dash into that clump of fir trees, crawled along in
a ditch till I thought I was safe, and then made a run for it. I
was so afraid of being followed that I have been at least three
miles round, but I don't mind, now that my father hasn't arrived. I
was in such a fright that he might come and go before I got here."
Chapter 3: A Rescue.
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