would be altogether to ruin. If this child, therefore, is to be saved, it
will be on pure aesthetical considerations. [5]

But all considerations whatever are at this moment suddenly cut short. A
second step is heard on the stairs, but still stealthy and cautious; a
third--and then the child's doom seems fixed. But just at that. moment all
is ready. The window is wide open; the rope is swinging free; the
journeyman has launched himself; and already he is in the first stage of
his descent. Simply by the weight of his person he descended, and by the
resistance of his hands he retarded the descent. The danger was, that the
rope should run too smoothly through his hands, and that by too rapid an
acceleration of pace he should come violently to the ground. Happily he
was able to resist the descending impetus: the knots of the splicings
furnished a succession of retardations. But the rope proved shorter by
four or five feet than he had calculated: ten or eleven feet from the
ground he hung suspended in the air; speechless for the present, through
long-continued agitation; and not daring to drop boldly on the rough
carriage pavement, lest he should fracture his legs. But the night was not
dark, as it had been on occasion of the Marr murders. And yet, for
purposes of criminal police, it was by accident worse than the darkest
night that ever hid a murder or baffled a pursuit. London, from east to
west, was covered with a deep pall (rising from the river) of universal
fog. Hence it happened, that for twenty or thirty seconds the young man
hanging in the air was not observed. His white shirt at length attracted
notice. Three or four people ran up, and received him in their arms, all
anticipating some dreadful annunciation. To what house did he belong? Even
_that_ was not instantly apparent; but he pointed with his finger to
Williamson's door, and said in a half-choking whisper--'_Marr's murderer,
now at work!_'