Deeply depressed, and with a sense of utter self-contempt strong upon him, Frank slunk by those lighted windows, and turning the corner of New Church street, still keeping close to the grave-yard wall, paused before the great iron door.
Leaning against it, he cast a hasty glance up and down.
The street was deserted. Not a soul was anywhere visible.
But stay!
It might have been fancy, but as he looked a second time it seemed to the boy, in his excited state of mind, that a woman's form at that moment turned the corner of Rector street upon the opposite side of the way and disappeared from view.
Darting to the corner at the top of his speed, he swept the short street at one glance.
That he had been mistaken was evident.
From Broadway above to the river front below not a living thing was to be seen.
"If this thing keeps up I shall go mad myself," he muttered, brokenly. "I see my dead mother now at every turn."
Pausing once more in front of the iron door in the church-yard wall, he gave utterance to a peculiar bat-like cry.