His intuition had not been at fault--he had made no mistake in that shadow across the street from the Sanctuary.

It had been the Tocsin.

He had been followed; and it was she who had followed him, until, in a crowd, she had seized the opportunity of a moment ago.
Though ultimately, perhaps, it changed nothing, it was a relief in a way to know that it was she, not Whitey Mack, who had been lurking there; but her persistent, incomprehensible determination to preserve the mystery with which she surrounded herself was like now to cost them both a ghastly price.

If he could only have had one word with her--just one word! The letter in his hand crackled under his clenched fist.

He stared at it in a half-blind, half-bitter way.