Would the lights never come, those sullen streets and at last the grateful, welcome crowds?
He could see one lamp, far ahead of him, flinging its light forward to help him.

If he might only reach it before the pursuer caught him.

Then, behind him, oh! so softly, so gently, with a dreadful certainty, it came.

If he did but once look round, once behold that Shadow, his defeat was sure.

He would sink down there upon the road, the mists would crowd upon him, and then the awful end.