The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. The momentary alarm over, he threw a piece of-wash leather over a bureau, so as to deaden the sound, and instantly broke it open with a small crowbar. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t.
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