Just as the certificates had proved to be dangerous, so might this lace.
With this idea of his own peril possessing his mind his whole manner changed.

The air of triumph shown in his step and bearing when he left Marta's door, due to his discovery of the fugitive and the terror his presence had inspired, was gone.

The old spectre always pursuing him stepped again to his side and linked arms.

His slinking, furtive air returned, and a certain well-defined fear, as if he dreaded being followed, showed itself in every glance.
Suddenly he caught sight of a well-patronized retreat, owned and operated by a Mrs.Blobbs, the Polish wife of an English cheap John, and with a quick sliding movement, he paused in front of the narrow door.

He had already taken in, from under his hat, the single gas-jet lighting up its collection of pinchbeck jewelry, watches, revolvers, satin shoes, fans, and other belongings of the unfortunate, and after peering up and down the street, he slipped in noiselessly, his countenance wearing that peculiar, shame-faced expression common to gentlemen on similar missions.