convulsively grasps his staff; his foot falls lightly on the pavement; his
carol is changed to a quick, sharp inhalation of the breath; for directly
before him, just visible through the fog, a figure, lightly clad, leans
from a window close upon the street, then clambers noiselessly upon the
sill, leaps over, and dashes swiftly down Chambers Street, disappearing in
the darkness.

Gathering himself well together, in an instant, Mr. Smithers is off and
away in pursuit. His heavy rubber-boots spatter over the bricks with an
echo that startles the sober residents from their slumbers. Strong of limb,
and not wholly unaccustomed to such exercise, he rapidly gains upon the
fugitive, who, finding himself so hotly followed, utters a faint cry, as if
unable to control his terror, and suddenly darts into one of the numerous
narrow passages which connect Chambers and Leverett Streets.

Not prepared for this sharp dodge, Mr. Smithers is for a moment unable to
check his headlong plunges, and shoots past the opening a yard or two
before the wet sidewalk affords him a foothold.

In great wrath, he turns about, and gropes his way cautiously through the
lane in the narrow labyrinth of which the fugitive has disappeared,--always
cautiously, for there are precipitous descents in Hammond Avenue, and deep
arched door-ways, from which a sudden onslaught might be dangerous. But he
meets no interruption here. Emerging into Leverett Street, he with
difficulty descries a white garment distantly fluttering in the feeble
light of a street-lamp. Any other color would have eluded him, but the way
is clear now, and it is a mere question of strength and speed. He sets his
teeth together, takes a full breath, and gives chase again.

Mr. Smithers has now passed the limits of his own beat, and he fears his