mity had driven Mr. Gaveston away. "Poor thing!" said he, feeling in his pocket for some silver—"I shall return in a minute, and then I'll give her something—I wish I'd done it at once this is a dangerous neighbourhood for misery at midnight," and he hastened forward to Albion Place, which is just at the farther extremity of the bridge, dropped his note into the solicitor's box, and hurried back.
"Here he comes!" thought Mr. Gaveston, who, concealed in a recess with his bludgeon poised, awaited his victim. On came Mr. Simpson but just as he arrived at the spot where his enemy was lurking to take his life, the faint outline of a figure mounted on the parapet caught his eye—"Gracious Heavens! It's that wretched creature going to drown herself," exclaimed he—and with a loud cry to arrest her desperate purpose he darted across the road, whilst the weapon raised for his destruction, descended through the unresisting air.
