When he reached the banks of the canal, he was struck by the lonely and deserted nature of the spot. The sward was damp and marshy with the late heavy rains: the canal was swollen, and rolled, muddy and dark, between its banks, the pale and sickly moon vainly wooing its bosom to respond to the caresses of its beams by a reflective kiss.
The bank on which Markham now walked backwards and forwards, and which constituted the verge of the region of Globe Town, was higher than the opposite one; and the canal, swollen by the rains, had deluged many parts of that latter shore.
In the place where Markham now found himself, several ditches and sluices had been cut; and these, added to the uneven and swampy nature of the soil, rendered his ramble in that quarter not only unpleasant, but even dangerous.
Nevertheless, Markham continued to pace backwards and forwards on the bank where he expected to meet one who was so dear to him.
He had been at his post about half an hour when footsteps suddenly fell upon his ears.
He stopped, and listened.
The steps approached; and in a few moments he beheld, through the obscurity of the night, a person advancing towards him.
"True to your appointment, sir," said the individual, when he came up to the spot where Richard was standing.
"I told you that I should not fail," answered Markham, who had immediately recognised the voice of the man that had borne him the message making the present appointment. "But what of my brother? will he come? is he near? Speak!"
"He will be here in a few moments," said the man, who, as our readers well know, was none other than the Buffer.