way daintily across the wet roadway to the further corner
by the Houses of Parliament.

My heart seemed to stand still as I watched her. At any other time or
place I would have sworn that I knew the tall, slender figure, the
imperial poise of the head, the peculiarly graceful gait, swift but not
hurried. I inwardly jeered at myself for my idiocy. My mind was so full
of Anne Pendennis that I must imagine every tall, graceful woman was
she! This lady was doubtless a resident in the southern suburbs,
detained by the storm, and now on her way to one of the all-night trams
that start from the far side of Westminster Bridge. There was quite a
suburban touch in a woman in evening dress being escorted by a man in a
pea-jacket. She might be an _artiste_, too poor to afford a cab home.

Nevertheless, while these thoughts ran through my mind, I was following
the couple. They walked so swiftly that I did not decrease the distance
between us. Half-way across the bridge I was intercepted by a beggar,
who whined for "the price of a doss" and kept pace with me, till I got
rid of him with the bestowal of a coin; but when I looked for the couple
I was stalking they had disappeared.

I quickened my pace to a run, and at the further end looked anxiously
ahead, but could see no trace of them. There were more people stirring
in the Westminster Bridge Road, even at this hour; street hawkers
starting home with their sodden barrows, the usual disreputable knot of
loungers gathered around a coffee-stall; but those whom I looked for had
vanished. Swiftly as they were walking they could scarcely have
traversed the distance between the bridge and the trams in so short a
time.

Had they gone down the steps to the river embankment? I paused and
listened, thought I heard a faint patter, as of a woman's high heels on
the stone steps, and ran down the flight.

The paved walk below St. Thomas' Hospital was deserted; I could see far
in the moonlight. But near at hand I heard the plash of oars. I looked
around and saw that to the right there was a second flight of steps,
almost under the shadow of the first arch of the bridge, and leading
right down to the river.

I vaulted the bar that guarded the top of the flight and ran down the
steps. Yes, there was the boat, with the sailor and another man pulling
at the oars, and the woman sitting in the stern. The scarf had slipped
back a little, and I saw the glint of her bright hair.

"Anne! Anne!" I crie