48 A JACOBITE EXILE

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.
“Thad 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 desper-
ate, 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 case-
ment 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.”