The moon, too, dogged him with persistent malice, or why was it that he rode always in a pool of light?
The ships' lamps tracked him as so many eyes.

He carried a bull's-eye lantern in the bottom of his boat, and the smell of its oil and heated varnish seemed to smell aloud to Heaven.
With heart in mouth, he crossed the line of the ferry, and picked his way among the vessels lying off the jetties.

On one of these vessels somebody was playing a concertina, and as he crept under its counter a voice hailed him in German.

He gave no answer, but pulled quickly on.

And now he was clear again, and nearing Kit's House under the left bank.