There she stood, frozen to the ground, gazing with starting eyes, and livid cheeks, and every feature fixed and ghastly, upon the man he had encountered in the dark last night.

His eyes met those of the locksmith.

It was but a flash, an instant, a breath upon a polished glass, and he was gone.
The locksmith was upon him--had the skirts of his streaming garment almost in his grasp--when his arms were tightly clutched, and the widow flung herself upon the ground before him.
'The other way--the other way,' she cried.

'He went the other way.
Turn--turn!' 'The other way! I see him now,' rejoined the locksmith, pointing--'yonder--there--there is his shadow passing by that light.
What--who is this?
Let me go.' 'Come back, come back!' exclaimed the woman, clasping him; 'Do not touch him on your life.

I charge you, come back.