As I drew near the Nyles' gate, its familiar squeak and the
accompanying clash of its iron latches, broke upon my ear. I started,
and peering through the gathering dusk, I saw the figure of a man turn
into the street and stride rapidly away in the opposite direction from
the one I was then pursuing. My heart gave a great leap, I hardly knew
why, and the blood rushed into my face, something caught in my throat
and I gave a short, hysterical cough. I had reached the gate, and the
air around it was yet laden with the scent of a rich cigar, though the
figure had passed into the distant gloom.
I pushed it open nervously, and it fell to with the same squeak and
clash as before. I stopped for a moment, and leaning over the low
railing I looked eagerly up and down the silent street. The moon
struggled through a feathery cloud at this instant, and flooded the
scene before me with its gentle light; I saw a figure again, beyond
the shadows of the tall, bare trees that lay upon the white moonlit
walk, it stopped, and turned sharply around, a little red light was
moving with it, back towards where I was standing.
My heart beat loud and fast, as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer.
I recoiled impulsively behind the projecting post beside me: I was a
coward at the last moment, the scent of the cigar became stronger and
stronger, the ring of advancing footsteps quicker and louder--they had
reached the gate and paused--there was only the post between us now.
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