He had started a pace behind me, and he finished in the same position.

For all his extra years and the weight of his valise, he had not lost a hair's breadth.

The devil might race him for me--I had enough of it! And, besides, to run so fast was contrary to my interests.

We could not run long without arriving somewhere.

At any moment we might turn a corner and find ourselves at the lodge-gate of some Squire Merton, in the midst of a village whose constable was sober, or in the hands of a patrol.