emory of
Adelaide. To reach the place, however, I had to turn a corner, and on
doing so I saw good reason, as I thought, for not carrying out my
intention at this especial time.

Some man--I could not recognise him from where I stood--had forestalled
me. Though the night was a dark one, sufficient light shone from the
scattered lamps on the opposite side of the way for me to discern his
intent figure, crouching against the iron bars and gazing, with an
intentness which made him entirely oblivious of my presence, at the very
plot--and on the very grave--which had been the end of my own pilgrimage.
So motionless he stood, and so motionless I myself became at this
unexpected and significant sight, that I presently imagined I could hear
his sighs in the dread quiet into which the whole scene had sunk.

Grief, deeper than mine, spoke in those labouring breaths. Adelaide was
mourned by some one as I, for all my remorse, could never mourn her.

_And I did not know the man_.

Was not this strange enough to rouse my wonder?

I thought so, and was on the point of satisfying this wonder by a quick
advance upon this stranger, when there happened an uncanny thing, which
held me in check from sheer astonishment. I was so placed, in reference
to one of the street lamps I have already mentioned, that my shadow fell
before me plainly along the snow. This had not attracted my attention
until, at the point of moving, I cast my eyes down and saw two shadows
where only one should be.

As I had heard no one behind me, and had supposed myself entirely alone
with the man absorbed in contemplation of Adelaide's grave, I experienced
a curious sensation which, without being fear, held me still for a
moment, with my eyes on this second shadow. It did not move, any more
than mine did. This was significant, and I turned.

A man stood at my back--not looking at me but at the fellow in front of
us. A quiet "hush!" sounded in my ear, and again I stood still. But only
for an instant.

The man at the fence--aroused by my movement, perhaps--had turned, and,
seeing our two figures, started to fly in the opposite direction.
Instinctively I darted forward in pursuit, but was soon passed by the man
behind me. This caused me to slacken; for I had recognised this latter,
as he flew by, as Sweetwater, the detective, and knew that he would do
this work better than myself.

But I reckoned without my host. He went only as far as the spot where the
man ha