began to fade, and the causes which produced it slowly to develop
themselves. Long lines of poorly lighted streets might be faintly
traced, with here and there a lighter spot, where lamps were clustered
round a square or market, or round some great building; after a time
these grew more distinct, and the lamps themselves were visible; slight
yellow specks, that seemed to be rapidly snuffed out, one by one, as
intervening obstacles hid them from the sight. Then, sounds arose--the
striking of church clocks, the distant bark of dogs, the hum of traffic
in the streets; then outlines might be traced--tall steeples looming
in the air, and piles of unequal roofs oppressed by chimneys; then,
the noise swelled into a louder sound, and forms grew more distinct and
numerous still, and London--visible in the darkness by its own faint
light, and not by that of Heaven--was at hand.

The locksmith, however, all unconscious of its near vicinity, still
jogged on, half sleeping and half waking, when a loud cry at no great
distance ahead, roused him with a start.

For a moment or two he looked about him like a man who had been
transported to some strange country in his sleep, but soon recognising
familiar objects, rubbed his eyes lazily and might have relapsed again,
but that the cry was repeated--not once or twice or thrice, but many
times, and each time, if possible, with increased vehemence. Thoroughly
aroused, Gabriel, who was a bold man and not easily daunted, made
straight to the spot, urging on his stout little horse as if for life or
death.

The matter indeed looked sufficiently serious, for, coming to the place
whence the cries had proceeded, he descried the figure of a man extended
in an apparently lifeless state upon the pathway, and, hovering round