everything.

There is no mark--no one knows." For it seemed to him that above him, around him, always before him and behind him there was a grey shadow, and that as men approached him this shadow, bending, whispered, and, as they came to him, they flung at him a frightened glance.

.

.

and passed.
If only he might take the arm of any one of those bright and careless young men and say to him, "I killed Carfax--thus and thus it was." Oh! the relief! the lifting of the weight! For then--and only then--this pursuing Shadow, so strangely grave, not cruel, but only relentless, would step back.