Finally, a little before midnight, he seemed to feel that he could stand the strain no longer, and prepared to shut up the shop.
He turned the lights down hastily, as if he feared that some customer might enter and detain him longer. He went out, locked the door behind him, and started rapidly toward his lodgings.
He lived at some distance from his shop, and had to pass through a long, quiet street to get there. Even in the daytime few persons were usually stirring upon this street, and at this hour it was entirely deserted.
Miller went along part of the time with his head down, and part of the time turning his eyes in every direction.
He was just approaching an intersection with another street when two figures in long, black robes with hoods drawn over their heads seemed to rise from the ground in front of him.
As a matter of fact, they had simply stepped from behind a tree, but Miller's mind was in no condition to take things as they were.
He gasped with fright the minute he saw them, stopped short and then tried to run back. The figures leaped after him, and clutched him by the arms, while one clapped a hand over his mouth. "It'll be safer for you," said one of them, sternly, "to make no resistance, for if you do you'll be beaten to a pulp in less than no time."
Miller chattered with fear. In spite of this threat he might have tried to break away, but he saw other figures apparently rising from the ground.
He was quickly surrounded by not less than a dozen, all in black cloaks and hoods. He could not see the faces of any of them clearly.