If I catch him for you, that's all that's wanted, I imagine, and we shan't be any the nearer to it for letting any one into my little secret." His master smiled.
"You shall have your rise out of the police, if you can, Middleton," he observed.

"It seems queer, though, to believe that the fellow's still in hiding round here." As though by common consent, they all stood, for a moment, perfectly still, looking across the stretch of marshland with its boggy places, its scrubby plantations, its clustering masses of tall grasses and bullrushes.
The grey twilight had become even more pronounced during the last few minutes.

Little wreaths of white mist hung over the damp places.
Everywhere was a queer silence.

The very air seemed breathless.

The Professor shivered and turned away.
"My nerves," he declared, "are scarcely what they were.