I saw him squash down his Trilby hat so that it was shapeless.

Then he disappeared along the path.

I thought this a queer proceeding.

Why should he have taken to his heels?
I thought I should like to see him again.

If he kept to the towing-path, his shortest way home, he was bound to go along the Chestnut Avenue, where, as you know, the road and the path again come together.