In passing a spot where scaffolding was erected before new buildings, the wish entered his mind that something might fall and crush him.

He thought of such an end as a blessed relief.
A hand was laid upon his shoulder, and at the touch his heart leaped as though it would burst his side.

He turned and, with starting eyes, glared at the man before him, a perfect stranger, he thought.
'Is it?
Or isn't it?
Hood, or his ghost ?' The man who spoke was of the shabbiest appearance, wearing an almost napless high hat, a coloured linen shirt which should have been at the laundress's, no neck-tie, a frock-coat with only one button, low shoes terribly down at heel; for all that, the most jovial-looking man, red-nosed, laughing.

At length Hood was capable of recognising him.
'Cheeseman! Well, who on earth would have expected to meet you!' 'I've followed you half along the street; couldn't be sure.

Afraid I startled you at last, old friend.' They had known each other as young men, and it was now ten years at least since they had met.