He rushed out upon the instant. There, at last, was that dreadful
look--the very one he seemed to know so well and yet had never seen
before--upon her face. There she stood, frozen to the ground, gazing
with starting eyes, and livid cheeks, and every feature fixed and
ghastly, upon the man he had encountered in the dark last night. His
eyes met those of the locksmith. It was but a flash, an instant, a
breath upon a polished glass, and he was gone.

The locksmith was upon him--had the skirts of his streaming garment
almost in his grasp--when his arms were tightly clutched, and the widow
flung herself upon the ground before him.

'The other way--the other way,' she cried. 'He went the other way.
Turn--turn!'

'The other way! I see him now,' rejoined the locksmith,
pointing--'yonder--there--there is his shadow passing by that light.
What--who is this? Let me go.'

'Come back, come back!' exclaimed the woman, clasping him; 'Do not
touch him on your life. I charge you, come back. He carries other lives
besides his own. Come back!'

'What does this mean?' cried the locksmith.

'No matter what it means, don't ask, don't speak, don't think about it.
He is not to be followed, checked, or stopped. Come back!'

The old man looked at her in wonder, as she writhed and clung about him;