Among all the dangerous characters who, in such a state of society,prowled and skulked in the metropolis at night, there was one manfrom whom many as uncouth and fierce as he, shrunk with aninvoluntary dread. Who he was, or whence he came, was a questionoften asked, but which none could answer. His name was unknown, hehad never been seen until within about eight days or thereabouts,and was equally a stranger to the old ruffians, upon whose hauntshe ventured fearlessly, as to the young. He could be no spy, forhe never removed his slouched hat to look about him, entered intoconversation with no man, heeded nothing that passed, listened tono discourse, regarded nobody that came or went. But so surely asthe dead of night set in, so surely this man was in the midst ofthe loose concourse in the night-cellar where outcasts of everygrade resorted; and there he sat till morning.
He was not only a spectre at their licentious feasts; a somethingin the midst of their revelry and riot that chilled and haunted them; but out of doors he was the same. Directly it was dark, hewas abroad--never in company with any one, but always alone; neverlingering or loitering, but always walking swiftly; and looking (sothey said who had seen him) over his shoulder from time to time,and as he did so quickening his pace. In the fields, the lanes,the roads, in all quarters of the town--east, west, north, andsouth--that man was seen gliding on like a shadow. He was alwayshurrying away. Those who encountered him, saw him steal past,caught sight of the backward glance, and so lost him in thedarkness.
This constant restlessness, and flitting to and fro, gave rise tostrange stories. He was seen in such distant and remote places, attimes so nearly tallying with each other, that some doubted whetherthere were not two of them, or more--some, whether he had notunearthly means of travelling from spot to spot. The footpadhiding in a ditch had marked him passing like a ghost along itsbrink; the vagrant had met him on the dark high-road; the beggarhad seen him pause upon the bridge to look down at the water, andthen sweep on again; they who dealt in bodies with the surgeonscould swear he slept in churchyards, and that they had beheld himglide away among the tombs on their approach. And as they toldthese stories to each other, one who had looked about him would pull his neighbour by the sleeve, and there he would be among them.
At last, one man--he was one of those whose commerce lay among thegraves--resolved to question this strange companion. Next night,when he had eat his poor meal voraciously (he was accustomed to dothat, they had observed, as though he had no other in the day),this fellow sat down at his elbow.
"A black night, master!"
"It is a black night."
"Blacker than last, though that was pitchy too. Didn"t I pass younear the turnpike in the Oxford Road?"
"It"s like you may. I don"t know."
"Come, come, master," cried the fellow, urged on by the looks ofhis comrades, and slapping him on the shoulder; "be morecompanionable and communicative. Be more the gentleman in thisgood company. There are tales among us that you have sold yourselfto the devil, and I know not what."
"We all have, have we not?" returned the stranger, looking up. "Ifwe were fewer in number, perhaps he would give better wages."
"It goes rather hard with you, indeed," said the fellow, as thestranger disclosed his haggard unwashed face, and torn clothes.