stared, hesitated, moved like a man out of his mind; and from being
merely a joker in search of amusement, George felt that he must see the
poor chap through.

He had 'taken the knock'--'taken the knock!' And he wondered what on
earth Mrs. Soames had been saying, what on earth she had been telling
him in the railway carriage. She had looked bad enough herself! It made
George sorry to think of her travelling on with her trouble all alone.

He followed close behind Bosinney's elbow--tall, burly figure, saying
nothing, dodging warily--and shadowed him out into the fog.

There was something here beyond a jest! He kept his head admirably, in
spite of some excitement, for in addition to compassion, the instincts
of the chase were roused within him.

Bosinney walked right out into the thoroughfare--a vast muffled
blackness, where a man could not see six paces before him; where, all
around, voices or whistles mocked the sense of direction; and sudden
shapes came rolling slow upon them; and now and then a light showed like
a dim island in an infinite dark sea.

And fast into this perilous gulf of night walked Bosinney, and fast
after him walked George. If the fellow meant to put his 'twopenny' under
a 'bus, he would stop it if he could! Across the street and back the
hunted creature strode, not groping as other men were groping in that
gloom, but driven forward as though the faithful George behind wielded
a knout; and this chase after a haunted man began to have for George the
strangest fascination.

But it was now that the affair developed in a way which ever afterwards
caused it to remain green in his mind. Brought to a stand-still in the
fog, he heard words which threw a sudden light on these proceedings.
What Mrs. Soames had said to Bosinney in the train was now no longer
dark. George understood from those mutterings that Soames had exercised
his rights over an estranged and unwilling wife in the greatest--the
supreme act of property.

His fancy wandered in the fields of this situation; it impressed him;
he guessed something of the anguish, the sexual confusion and horror in
Bosinney's heart. And he thought: 'Yes, it's a bit thick! I don't wonder
the poor fellow is half-cracked!'

He had run his quarry to earth on a bench under one of the lions in
Trafalgar Square, a monster sphynx astray like themselves in that gulf
of darkness. Here, rigid and silent, sat Bosinney, and George, in whose
patience was a touch of str