He is there
to be found in the midst of a select society of ladies and gentlemen of
atrocious memory, dressed in the close-cut tweed suit which he wore on
the evening of the murder, and holding in his hand the identical
life-preserver with which he committed it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
THE SIGNAL-MAN.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
"Halloa! Below there!"
When he heard a voice thus calling to him, he was standing at the door
of his box, with a flag in his hand, furled round its short pole. One
would have thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could
not have doubted from what quarter the voice came; but, instead of
looking up to where I stood on the top of the steep cutting nearly over
his head, he turned himself about and looked down the Line. There was
something remarkable in his manner of doing so, though I could not have
said, for my life, what. But I know it was remarkable enough to attract
my notice, even though his figure was foreshortened and shadowed, down
in the deep trench, and mine was high above him, and so steeped in the
glow of an angry sunset that I had shaded my eyes with my hand before
I saw him at all.
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