He did not look round, he
quickened his pace. She was gaining on him. Involuntarily, he ran--ran
like a hare, and, at the corner of Turl Street, rose like a trout, saw
the pavement rise at him, and fell, with a bang, prone.
Let it be said at once that in this matter the gods were absolutely
blameless. It is true they had decreed that a piece of orange-peel
should be thrown down this morning at the corner of Turl Street. But
the Master of Balliol, not the Duke, was the person they had destined
to slip on it. You must not imagine that they think out and appoint
everything that is to befall us, down to the smallest detail.
Generally, they just draw a sort of broad outline, and leave us to
fill it in according to our taste. Thus, in the matters of which this
book is record, it was they who made the Warden invite his grand-
daughter to Oxford, and invite the Duke to meet her on the evening of
her arrival. And it was they who prompted the Duke to die for her on
the following (Tuesday) afternoon. They had intended that he should
execute his resolve after, or before, the boat-race of that evening.
But an oversight upset this plan. They had forgotten on Monday night
to uncage the two black owls; and so it was necessary that the Duke's
death should be postponed.
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