صفحة 412 من 490

In three days he would be free.

Suddenly the man drew up with a jerk at the top of a dark lane.

Over the low roofs and jagged chimney-stacks of the houses rose

the black masts of ships. Wreaths of white mist clung like

ghostly sails to the yards.

"Somewhere about here, sir, ain't it?" he asked huskily through

the trap.

Dorian started and peered round. "This will do," he answered, and

having got out hastily and given the driver the extra fare he had

promised him, he walked quickly in the direction of the quay.

Here and there a lantern gleamed at the stern of some huge

merchantman. The light shook and splintered in the puddles. A red

glare came from an outward-bound steamer that was coaling. The

slimy pavement looked like a wet mackintosh.