And my state of mind what with the hurry, the worry and a growing exultation was peculiar enough.

That engine in my head went round at its top speed hour after hour till eleven at about at night it let up on me suddenly at the entrance to the Dock before large iron gates in a dead wall." * * * * * These gates were closed and locked.

The cabby, after shooting his things off the roof of his machine into young Powell's arms, drove away leaving him alone with his sea-chest, a sail cloth bag and a few parcels on the pavement about his feet.

It was a dark, narrow thoroughfare he told us.
A mean row of houses on the other side looked empty: there wasn't the smallest gleam of light in them.

The white-hot glare of a gin palace a good way off made the intervening piece of the street pitch black.