Mr. Hoopdriver’s breakfast took longer than expected.
By the time he was ready to leave Guildford, it was almost nine o’clock.
He wheeled his bicycle out onto the High Street, but he was not sure what to do next.
He could not stop thinking about the Young Lady in Grey.
Was she still in Guildford, having breakfast somewhere with the unpleasant man in brown?
Or had they already left?
If they were still in town, Hoopdriver could take his time.
If they had gone ahead, he would have to hurry—and perhaps use some of the smaller roads to avoid them.
After thinking it over, he decided not to leave Guildford by the obvious Portsmouth road.
Instead, he took the quieter road through Shalford.
The road was pleasant and shady, and Hoopdriver soon felt safe enough to practice riding with one hand.
He even tried looking over his shoulder while riding.
He nearly fell several times.
But each time he managed to catch himself with his foot.
“That’s better,” he told himself.
He was slowly getting the hang of it.
Before he reached Bramley, he noticed a tempting little side road.
He turned into it.
The road carried him pleasantly along for half a mile or so, then suddenly seemed to throw him back onto the Portsmouth road like a dog dropping a stick.
He was now only a couple of miles from Godalming.
Hoopdriver decided to walk his bicycle through Godalming.
The road through the town was terrible.
It was covered with loose stones and bumps, with sudden rises and drops everywhere.
No beginner could ride safely through it.
At the Woolpack, he stopped and successfully experimented with some cider.
Then he continued toward Milford.
All the while, he could not stop thinking about the Young Lady in Grey and the man in brown.
He was aware of them the way a child is aware of monsters in the dark.
Every now and then, he thought he heard bicycle tires approaching from behind.
He would quickly turn around.
There would be nobody there.
Once he saw a bright wheel far ahead.
His heart jumped.
But when he got closer, he discovered it was only a workingman riding one of those old-fashioned tall bicycles.
Still, the Young Lady in Grey continued to trouble his thoughts.
He did not understand why.
During the night, he had dreamed something very clearly.
The girl was not really the other man’s sister.
He had forgotten the exact words from his dream, but the feeling remained.
Why would a man need to be alone with his own sister on top of a tower?
It made no sense.
Yet somehow, he was convinced there was something strange about the relationship between them.
When he reached Milford, his bicycle suddenly seemed determined to make things worse.
A signpost stood ahead, pointing sharply to the right.
Hoopdriver wanted to slow down and read it.
But the bicycle had other ideas.
The road dipped slightly, and the machine suddenly shot forward.
By the time Hoopdriver thought about using the brake, he had already passed the signpost.
He could not turn around.
There was not enough room on the road for him to make the turn safely.
So he continued forward.
Unfortunately, he had taken the wrong road.
The road to the right had been the Portsmouth road.
The road he was actually on led toward Haslemere and Midhurst.
And that mistake brought him face-to-face with his two traveling companions from the day before.
He came upon them without warning beneath the railway bridge.
He heard a girl’s voice.
“It’s horrible.”
Then she continued angrily:
“It’s brutal. It’s cowardly—”
She suddenly stopped.
Hoopdriver emerged from the archway and saw them.
Their bicycles were lying beside the road.
The Young Lady in Grey and the man in brown were standing face-to-face.
The man in brown looked strangely calm.
He twirled his moustache and wore a faint smile, as if he were enjoying himself.
The girl stood stiffly with her arms at her sides.
She was gripping a handkerchief.
Her face was flushed, and even her eyelids seemed slightly red.
She looked furious.
For just a second, Hoopdriver could see the real emotion on her face.
Then she noticed him.
Her expression immediately changed to surprise.
The man in brown also looked startled.
Hoopdriver had already passed them before he could understand what he had seen.
He continued toward Haslemere, trying to make sense of it.
“That’s strange,” he muttered.
“Very strange.”
“They were having an argument.”
He thought about the man in brown.
“Smirking at her…”
Hoopdriver’s opinion of the man was not improving.
“He was upsetting her.”
The thought bothered him.
“Why?”
Then a new idea entered his mind.
Perhaps he should go back.
He grabbed the brake and stopped.
For a moment he simply stood there, looking back toward the railway bridge.
The two of them were still there.
He thought the Young Lady in Grey might even have stamped her foot in anger.
Hoopdriver hesitated.
Then he turned his bicycle around.
He was going back.
He gripped the handlebars tightly.
“I’ll offer him a screw hammer,” he muttered.
It seemed like a perfectly reasonable excuse to approach them.
But as he got closer, he saw something that changed everything.
The Young Lady in Grey was crying.
They heard him approaching and turned around.
There was no doubt now.
Tears filled her eyes.
The man in brown looked extremely uncomfortable.
Hoopdriver stopped beside them and got off his bicycle.
“Nothing wrong, I hope?” he asked, looking directly at the man in brown.
“No,” the man replied coldly.
“Nothing at all.”
Hoopdriver glanced at the girl.
“But the young lady is crying. I thought perhaps…”
The girl immediately covered one eye with her handkerchief.
“It’s this speck,” she said.
“A speck of dust got into my eye.”
The man in brown quickly backed her up.
“She has a gnat in her eye.”
Hoopdriver stared at them.
He was completely confused.
He knew perfectly well there was no gnat.
But what could he say?
He had imagined himself riding to the rescue like a knight.
Knights could fight dragons.
They could confront villains.
But what was a knight supposed to do about an imaginary insect?
The girl rubbed her eye again.
“I think it’s gone now.”
The man in brown nodded sympathetically.
“Yes, it seems to be better.”
Hoopdriver stood there speechless.
He knew he had made a fool of himself again.
He was about to apologize when the man in brown suddenly turned on him.
“I hope your curiosity is satisfied?”
“Certainly,” Hoopdriver replied.
“Then we won’t detain you.”
Hoopdriver had no choice.
He turned his bicycle around and struggled back onto it.
Then he rode away as quickly as he could.
He soon discovered another problem.
He was not actually on the Portsmouth road.
But by then he was too embarrassed to turn back.
Going back would mean facing them again.
He simply could not bear that.
So he continued south toward Haslemere.
Far to his right, he could see the real Portsmouth road disappearing toward the green and purple hills of Hindhead.
It seemed almost to mock him.
The day itself was beautiful.
The sun was shining.
The hills stretched into the distance, with pleasant valleys between them.
Heather and gorse grew along the sandy roadside.
Young pine trees stood bright green against the darker older branches.
Normally, Hoopdriver would have been delighted by all of it.
But his anger was too strong.
The beautiful countryside could hardly compete with his humiliation.
He developed a deep and unreasonable hatred for the man in brown.
Finally, Hoopdriver made a decision.
He would abandon the Portsmouth road.
He would take a completely different route east.
At least then he would not have to keep running into that man.
When he reached Haslemere, he avoided the busy main street.
He did not even dare stop at any of the attractive inns there.
Instead, he turned down a side road and found a small beer shop called the Good Hope.
Inside, he refreshed himself with some food and drink.
He also struck up a conversation with an old laborer.
While talking to the man, Hoopdriver privately imagined himself as a mysterious Lost Heir traveling incognito.
It made the ordinary little beer shop seem much more interesting.
When he was ready to leave, he climbed back onto his bicycle.
He set off toward Northchapel.
Several signposts seemed determined to send him there.
But then another misleading turn appeared.
Once again, Hoopdriver took the wrong road.