Harkless tried vainly to decipher it, but the twilight had fallen too deep, and the writing was too faint, so he struck a match and held it close to the paper.

The action betokened only a languid interest, but when he caught sight of the first of the four subscribed lines he sat up straight in his chair with an ejaculation.

At the bottom of Fisbee's page was written in a dainty, feminine hand, of a type he had not seen for years: "'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- And cabbages--and kings--'" He put the paper in his pocket, and set off rapidly down the village street.
At his departure William Todd looked up quickly; then he got upon his feet and quietly followed the editor.

In the dusk a tattered little figure rose up from the weeds across the way, and stole noiselessly after William.

He was in his shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat unbuttoned and loose.