When he came to the surface of the water Guy turned on his back and
suffered himself to float down until he recovered his breath. When he did
so he raised his head and, treading the water, listened attentively. He
was now nearly a quarter of a mile below the bridge. There was no sound of
shouting behind him, but he felt sure that the pursuit was in no way
abandoned. Already torches were flashing on the quay between the wall and
the river, and in a short time others appeared on his left. On both sides
there were dark spaces where the walls of the great chateaux of the nobles
extended down to the water's side, and obliged those pursuing him along
the quays to make a detour round them to come down again to the bank. He
could hardly succeed in reaching one of these buildings without being
seen, for the light of the torches on the opposite shore would be almost
certain to betray his movements as soon as he began to swim, and even if
he did reach the shore unseen he might at once be handed over to the White
Hoods by those in the hotel. He therefore remained floating on his back,
and in twenty minutes was beyond the line of the city wall. He could now
swim without fear of being discovered, and made for the southern shore.
It was now the middle of June, and the water was fairly warm, but he was
glad to be out of it. So far as Guy had heard he had not been caught sight
of from the moment that he had sprung from the bridge.
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