THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
3 ZZ 
cs NOT TWENTY YARDS FROM WHERE WE STOOD THE SLAVEBOY BRIDGE HAD BEEN COMPLETELY 
SWEPT AWAY.” 
line, looking this way and that. The mist 
had clung about us clammily, but a sudden 
cool breath parted it ; it lifted, rolling up in 
huge, white billows, a faint coppery gleam 
came from the ragged edges of the clouds, 
and in the faint light we could see the black 
mass of water as it. slid and foamed in mighty 
majesty, and the long parapets of the bridge 
stretching out across the flood. 
u There, you see,” the inspector wheeled 
upon me — the others were some way behind, 
and in dumb despair I knew that I should 
lose my place, and my girl, ill as she was, 
know want. “ You see, you, Bill Summers, 
you must take some easier job. You 
dreamt the whole thing, you two.” 
He stepped upon the bridge. The wood 
was tumbling strangely as the solid mass of 
waters struck it. “ You ” 
He stopped. His fingers gripped my arm, 
a fresh eddy of fog dimmed our sight, but in 
the uncertain light the parapets seemed to 
