If a thunder cloud burst upon him it would certainly take him unawares, while the cool rain might be very acceptable.
He began to count the minutes.
Seldom had this man ever felt any such thing as nervousness in his life, but just now he certainly experienced a spell of it. The minutes seemed hours.
People walked along the street—he scrutinized every one as though he expected to see a ghost appear.
In reality he was looking for Prescott.
It worried him to know that the man was somewhere around and yet out of sight, though he did not doubt but what he would be on hand when needed.
CHAPTER XXI
THE COTTAGE BEYOND THE HARLEM
Sometimes things do not run quite as smoothly as we hope for.
The best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong—there’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip.
So it happened on the present occasion.