We appeared to retrace the way we had come. Not that I had taken note of any particular objects in my perturbed state of mind, but judging from the general character of the streets. We called at another office or station for a minute and crossed the river again. During the whole of this time, and during the whole search, my companion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance a single moment; but when we crossed the bridge he seemed, if possible, to be more on the alert than before. He stood up to look over the parapet, he alighted and went back after a shadowy female figure that flitted past us, and he gazed into the profound black pit of water with a face that made my heart die within me. The river had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away so fast between the low flat lines of shore--so heavy with indistinct and awful shapes, both of substance and shadow; so death-like and mysterious. I have seen it many times since then, by sunlight and by moonlight, but never free from the impressions of that journey. In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying round the homeless woman whom we pass, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me--a face rising out of the dreaded water.

We appeared to retrace the way we had come. We called at another police station for a minute and crossed the river again. My companion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance. When we crossed the bridge he stood up to look over the parapet; he alighted and went back after a shadowy female figure that flitted past us; and he gazed into the profound black pit of water with a face that made my heart die within me.
The river had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away so fast between the low flat lines of shore - so heavy with indistinct and awful shapes, so death-like and mysterious. I have seen it many times since then, but never free from the impressions of that journey. In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me like a face rising out of the dreaded water.
