lleys where squalor lurked. Although he had by this time, perhaps,
eluded the occupants of the cab, he knew there were others keenly alert
for his capture whom he might at any moment encounter. To his fancy
every corner teemed with peril; he did not underestimate the resources
of those who sought him or the cunning of him who was the chief among
his enemies.

Which way should he move? At that moment the city's multitudinous blocks
seemed like the many squares of an oriental checker-board; the problem
he put to himself was how to cross the city and reach the vicinity of
the river; there to make a final effort to look for--What? A hopeless
quest!

His face burned with fever; he did not heed it. A long, broad
thoroughfare, as he walked on, had suddenly unfolded itself to his gaze;
one side of this highway shone resplendent with the flaring lights of
numerous stands and stalls displaying vegetables and miscellaneous
articles. A hubbub assailed the ear, the voices of hucksters and
hawkers, vying with one another to dispose of their wares; like ants,
people thronged the sidewalk and pavement near these temporary booths.

About to turn back from this animated scene, John Steele hesitated; the
road ran straight and sure toward the destination he wished to reach,
while on either hand lay a network of devious ways. Amid these
labyrinths, even one familiar with the city's maze might go astray, and
again he glanced down the single main road, cutting squarely through all
intricacies; noted that although, on one side, the lamps and the torches
flared high, revealing every detail of merchandise, and, incidentally,
the faces of all who passed, the other side of the thoroughfare seemed
the more murky and shadowy by comparison.

He decided, crossed the street; lights gleamed in his face. He pushed
his way through the people unmolested and strode on, followed only by
the noise of passing vehicles and carts; then found himself walking on
the other side, apart from the headlong busy stream. A suspicion of mist
hung over the city; through it, people afar assumed shapes unreal; above
the jagged sky-line of housetops the heavens had taken on that sickly
hue, the high dome's jaundiced aspect for London in autumn.

On!--on! John Steele moved; on!--on!--the traffic pounded, for the most
part in the opposite direction; a vast, never-ending source of sound, it
seemed to soothe momentarily his sense of insecurity. Time passed; he
had, apparentl