A moment after, he had entered it; she heard him ascending the staircase, and she drew instinctively close within the curtains.

He pushed open the door, walked forward into the embrasure of the window, and stood within a foot of Clarice, apparently gazing into the street.

A pale light from the gas-lamp over the front door flickered upon his face.

It was haggard and drawn, the lips were pressed closely together, the eyelids shut tightly over the eyes--a white mask of pain.
Or was this the real face, Clarice wondered, and that which he showed to the world the mask?
She was almost afraid to move; she even held her breath.
Suddenly the echoes of the street were reawakened.

Drake roused himself and opened his eyes.