Then, pat, pat; he had been missed twice.
For a moment he did not understand this.

The street was hidden, everything was hidden, as he looked.

The second flare had burned out.
Lincoln had gripped Graham by the arm, was lugging him along the gallery.
"Before the next light!" he cried.

His haste was contagious.

Graham's instinct of self-preservation overcame the paralysis of his incredulous astonishment.