ely he took up
his trot, for a little while keeping up, dodging along between light and
shadow, presently falling behind. At intervals she heard the patter,
patter, patter of his footsteps following; at intervals she lost the
sound, and shadows would engulf the figure, and she would wait in a
panic for its reappearance. For she knew it was there somewhere, on one
side of the street or the other. But, oh, not to see it! To expect at
any moment it might start up again--Heaven knew where, perhaps at her
very carriage window. Her unconscious hand was doubled to a fist upon
her breast, fast closed upon the sapphire.

With all her body braced, she leaned and looked far backward, and far
forward, and now for a long time saw nothing. The distance was empty.
The glare of arc-lights showed her the shadows of her own progress--the
shadow of her vehicle shooting huge and misshapen now on the cobbles,
now along a blank wall, wheels, body and driver, all lurching like one;
now heaped on each other, now tenuously drawn out, now twisting
themselves into shapes the mind could not account for. For here,
whirling the corner, the carriage seemed to wave an arm, and now between
the wheels, fast twinkling, she saw a pair of legs. She leaned and
looked, so mesmerized with this grotesque appearance that it scarcely
troubled her that all the way down the last long hill she knew it must
be that a man was running at her wheel.

The warm lights of her house were just before her, offering succor,
stiffening courage. It would be but a dash from the door of the cab to
her own door. There was no second course, once the cab stopped. She felt
that to lurk in its gloom would mean robbery, perhaps death. She thought
without fear, but with an intense calculation. Her hand held the door at
swing as the cab drew up. Before it should stop she must leap. She
gathered her skirts and sprang--sprang clean to the sidewalk. The steps
of her house rushed by her in her upward flight. Her bell pealed. She
covered her eyes.

For the moment before Shima opened the door there was nothing but
darkness and silence. She had never been so glad of anything in her life
as of the kind, astute, yellow face he presented to her distressed
appeal.

"Shima," she panted, "pay the cab; and if there's any one else there say
that I'll call the police--no, no, send him away." There was no question
or hesitation in Shima's obedience. Through the glass of the door she
watched him desc