He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself. Manned by a couple of watermen, who rowed with great swiftness, this wherry dashed through the current in the track of the fugitive, of whom it was evidently in pursuit, and upon whom it perceptibly gained. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. "He hash a long journey before him—ha! ha!" "Peace!" cried Jonathan.
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