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In the Fog by Richard Harding Davis
page 26 of 75 (34%)
after him, shouting to him to halt, but before I could reach the hall
he had torn open the door, and I saw him spring out into the yellow
fog. I cleared the steps in a jump and ran down the garden walk but
just as the gate clicked in front of me. I had it open on the instant,
and, following the sound of the man's footsteps, I raced after him
across the open street. He, also, could hear me, and he instantly
stopped running, and there was absolute silence. He was so near that I
almost fancied I could hear him panting, and I held my own breath to
listen. But I could distinguish nothing but the dripping of the mist
about us, and from far off the music of the Hungarian band, which I
had heard when I first lost myself.

"All I could see was the square of light from the door I had left open
behind me, and a lamp in the hall beyond it flickering in the draught.
But even as I watched it, the flame of the lamp was blown violently to
and fro, and the door, caught in the same current of air, closed
slowly. I knew if it shut I could not again enter the house, and I
rushed madly toward it. I believe I even shouted out, as though it
were something human which I could compel to obey me, and then I
caught my foot against the curb and smashed into the sidewalk. When I
rose to my feet I was dizzy and half stunned, and though I thought
then that I was moving toward the door, I know now that I probably
turned directly from it; for, as I groped about in the night, calling
frantically for the police, my fingers touched nothing but the
dripping fog, and the iron railings for which I sought seemed to have
melted away. For many minutes I beat the mist with my arms like one at
blind man's buff, turning sharply in circles, cursing aloud at my
stupidity and crying continually for help. At last a voice answered me
from the fog, and I found myself held in the circle of a policeman's
lantern.
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