As I was walking slowly down one side of the street, I noticed a man
standing within the open door of a house near Buckingham Gate.
At any other time I should not have given the fact a second thought, but
life at River Hall seemed to have endowed me with the power of making
mountains out of molehills, of regarding the commonest actions of my
fellows with distrust and suspicion; and I was determined to know more
of the gentleman who stood back in the shadow, peering out into the
darkening twilight.
With this object I ran upstairs to the clerk's office, and then passed
into Mr. Craven's room. He had gone, but his lamp was still burning, and
I took care to move between it and the window, so as to show myself to
any person who might be watching outside; then, without removing hat or
top-coat, I left the room, and proceeded to Taylor's office, which I
found in utter darkness. This was what I wanted; I wished to see without
being seen; and across the way, standing now on the pavement, was the
man I had noticed, looking up at our offices.
"All right," thought I, and running downstairs, I went out again, and
walked steadily up Buckingham Street, along John Street, up Adam Street,
as though _en route_ to the Strand. Before, however, I reached that
thoroughfare, I paused, hesitated, and then immediately and suddenly
wheeled round and retraced my steps, meeting, as I did so, a man walking
a few yards behind me and at about the same pace.
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