Soon he reached the corner of the Terrace and disappeared.

Tavernake slowly crossed the road and with his back to the railings looked steadfastly at the dark front of gray stone houses.

Big Ben struck one o'clock, several people passed backwards and forwards.

Men were coming out from the club, and separating for the night; the roar of the city was growing fainter.

Yet Tavernake felt indisposed to move.