now. Dandy Joe had disappeared; the hope of attaining his end through
him, of being led to the retreat of one he had so long desired to find,
had proved illusive. The last moment's halt had enabled him to escape,
to fade from view like a will-o'-the-wisp.

John Steele did not go far in mere aimless fashion; leaning against a
wall he strove once more to plan, but ever as he did so, through his
thought the girl's fair face, looking out from enshrouding lace,
intruded. Again he felt the light of her eyes, all the bitterness of
spirit their surprise, consternation, had once more awakened in him.

He looked out at the wagons, the carts, the nondescript vehicles of
every description; but a moment before she had been there,--so near; he
had caught beneath filmy white the glitter of gold,--her hair, the only
bright thing in that murk and gloom. He recalled how he had once sat
beside her at the opera. How different was this babel, this grinding and
crunching of London's thundering wheels!

But around her had always been dreams that had led him into strange
byways, through dangerous, though flowery paths! To what end? To see her
start, her eyes wide with involuntary dread, shrinking? Could he not
thus interpret that look he had seen by the flare of a carriage lamp,
when she had caught sight of him?

Dread of him? It seemed the crowning mockery; his blood surged faster;
he forgot his purpose, when a figure coming out of a public house,
through one of the doors near which he had halted, caught his attention.
Dandy Joe, a prodigal with unexpected riches, wiped his lips as he
sauntered past John Steele and continued his way, lurching a little.