Darkness was upon the narrow street, and his footsteps alone broke the dead stillness, as he hurried along.
As he reached a solitary lamp, which gave light to a portion of the street, his ear caught the echo of footsteps behind: and impelled by an impulse which he could not himself comprehend, Randolph paused, and concealed his form in the shadow of a deep doorway. From where he stood, by the light of the lamp, (which was not five paces distant,) he could command a view of any wayfarer who might chance to pass along the deserted street.
The footsteps drew nearer, and presently two persons came in sight. They halted beneath the lamp. Randolph could not see their faces, but he remarked that one was short and thick-set in form, while the other was tall and commanding. The tall one wore a cloak, and the other an overcoat.
And Randolph heard their voices—
"Are we near the hound? My back hurts like the devil, and I don't wish to go any farther than is necessary."
"Only a block or two, to go," replied the other. "Judas Iscariot! Just think that we're sure to find him there, Royalton, and your back won't hurt a bit."
"Oh, by ——! let me but find him, and stand face to face with him, and I'll take care of the rest."
These words, accompanied by an oath, and uttered with the emphasis of a mortal hatred, were all that Randolph heard.
The twain proceeded on their way.
It was not until the sound of their footsteps had died away, that Randolph emerged from his hiding-place—