He was
waiting for me at the bottom, with his white light on.
"I have not called out," I said, when we came close together; "may I
speak now?"
"By all means, sir."
"Good night, then, and here's my hand."
"Good night, sir, and here's mine."
With that, we walked side by side to his box, entered it, closed the
door, and sat down by the fire.
"I have made up my mind, sir," he began, bending forward as soon as
we were seated, and speaking in a tone but a little above a whisper,
"that you shall not have to ask me twice what troubles me. I took you
for some one else yesterday evening. That troubles me."
"That mistake?"
"No. That some one else."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
"Like me?"
"I don't know. I never saw the face. The left arm is across the face,
and the right arm is waved. Violently waved. This way."
I followed his action with my eyes, and it was the action of an arm
gesticulating with the utmost passion and vehemence: "For God's sake
clear the way!"
"One moonlight night," said the man, "I was sitting here, when I heard
a voice cry, 'Halloa! Below there!' I started up, looked from that door,
and saw this Some one else standing by the red light near the tunnel,
waving as I just now showed you.
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