"If I fail to find him, you may expect me back ere long," were Thirlby's last words to the porter.
Hurrying along Watling-street, and taking the first turning on the right, he descended to Thames-street, and made the best of his way towards the bridge.

Leonard followed him closely, and they pursued their rapid course in silence.

By the time they reached the north gate of the bridge, Leonard found his strength failing him, and halting at one of the openings between the tall houses overlooking the river, where there was a wooden bench for the accommodation of passengers, he sank upon it, and begged Thirlby to go on, saying he would return to Watling-street as soon as he recovered from his exhaustion.

Thirlby did not attempt to dissuade him from his purpose, but instantly disappeared.
The night, it has before been remarked, was singularly beautiful.

It was almost as light as day, for the full harvest moon (alas! there was no harvest for it to smile upon!) having just risen, revealed every object with perfect distinctness.