A LONG WALK The footsteps sounded overhead with a singular regularity.

From the fireplace to the door, and back again from the door to the fireplace.

At each turn there was a short pause, and each pause was of the same duration.

The footsteps were very light; it was almost as though an animal, a caged animal, padded from the bars at one end to the bars at the other.

There was something stealthy in the footsteps too.
In the room below a man of forty-five sat writing at a desk--a very tall, broad-shouldered man, in clerical dress.