He guessed that something of a like
nature had fallen upon the town
again. The gas-light on the landings
and in the melancholy hall
burned feebly--so feebly that one
got but a vague view of the rickety
hat-stand and the shabby overcoats
and head-gear hanging upon it. It
was well for him that he had but
a corner or so to turn before he
reached the pawnshop in whose
window he had seen the pistol he
intended to buy.
When he opened the street-door
he saw that the fog was, upon the
whole, perhaps even heavier and
more obscuring, if possible, than the
one so well remembered. He could
not see anything three feet before
him, he could not see with distinctness
anything two feet ahead. The
sensation of stepping forward was
uncertain and mysterious enough to be
almost appalling. A man not
sufficiently cautious might have fallen
into any open hole in his path. Antony
Dart kept as closely as possible
to the sides of the houses. It would
have been easy to walk off the pavement
into the middle of the street
but for the edges of the curb and the
step downward from its level. Traffic
had almost absolutely ceased, though
in the more important streets link-
boys were making efforts to guide
men or four-wheelers slowly along.
The blind feeling of the thing was
rather awful. Though but few
pedestrians were out, Dart found
himself once or twice brushing against
or coming into forcible contact with
men feeling their way about like
himself.
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