The Watcher | Page 3

of these haunting sounds, until he had reached the point
where he had last stopped to retrace his steps. Here they were resumed,
and with sudden starts of running, which threatened to bring the unseen
pursuer close up to the alarmed pedestrian. Captain Barton arrested his
course as formerly; the unaccountable nature of the occurrence filled
him with vague and almost horrible sensations, and, yielding to the
excitement he felt gaining upon him, he shouted, sternly--
"Who goes there?"
The sound of one's own voice, thus exerted, in utter solitude, and
followed by total silence, has in it something unpleasantly exciting, and
he felt a degree of nervousness which, perhaps, from no cause had he
ever known before. To the very end of this solitary street the steps
pursued him, and it required a strong effort of stubborn pride on his
part to resist the impulse that prompted him every moment to run for
safety at the top of his speed. It was not until he had reached his
lodging, and sate by his own fireside, that he felt sufficiently reassured
to arrange and reconsider in his own mind the occurrences which had
so discomposed him: so little a matter, after all, is sufficient to upset
the pride of scepticism, and vindicate the old simple laws of nature
within us.
Mr. Barton was next morning sitting at a late breakfast, reflecting upon
the incidents of the previous night, with more of inquisitiveness than
awe, so speedily do gloomy impressions upon the fancy disappear
under the cheerful influences of day, when a letter just delivered by the

postman was placed upon the table before him. There was nothing
remarkable in the address of this missive, except that it was written in a
hand which he did not know -- perhaps it was disguised--for the tall
narrow characters were sloped backward; and with the self-inflicted
suspense which we so often see practised in such cases, he puzzled over
the inscription for a full minute before he broke the seal. When he did
so, he read the following words, written in the same hand:
"Mr. Barton, late Captain of the 'Dolphin,' is warned of DANGER. He
will do wisely to avoid ---- street -- [here the locality of his last night's
adventure was named]--if he walks there as usual he will meet with
something bad. Let him take warning, once for all, for he has good
reason to dread "The Watcher."
Captain Barton read and re-read this strange effusion; in every light and
in every direction he turned it over and over. He examined the paper on
which it was written, and closely scrutinized the handwriting. Defeated
here, he turned to the seal; it was nothing but a patch of wax, upon
which the accidental impression of a coarse thumb was imperfectly
visible. There was not the slightest mark, no clue of indication of any
kind, to lead him to even a guess as to its possible origin. The writer's
object seemed a friendly one, and yet he subscribed himself as one
whom he had "good reason to dread." Altogether, the letter, its author,
and its real purpose, were to him an inexplicable puzzle, and one,
moreover, unpleasantly suggestive, in his mind, of associations
connected with the last night's adventure.
In obedience to some feeling--perhaps of pride--Mr. Barton did not
communicate, even to his intended bride, the occurrences which we
have just detailed. Trifling as they might appear, they had in reality
most disagreeably affected his imagination, and he cared not to disclose,
even to the young lady in question, what she might possibly look upon
as evidences of weakness. The letter might very well be but a hoax, and
the mysterious footfall but a delusion of his fancy. But although he
affected to treat the whole affair as unworthy of a thought, it yet
haunted him pertinaciously, tormenting him with perplexing doubts,
and depressing him with undefined apprehensions. Certain it is, that for

a considerable time afterwards he carefully avoided the street indicated
in the letter as the scene of danger.
It was not until about a week after the receipt of the letter which I have
transcribed, that anything further occurred to remind Captain Barton of
its contents, or to counteract the gradual disappearance from his mind
of the disagreeable impressions which he had then received. He was
returning one night, after the interval I have stated, from the theatre,
which was then situated in Crow-street, and having there handed Miss
Montague and Lady Rochdale into their carriage, he loitered for some
time with two or three acquaintances. With these, however, he parted
close to the College, and pursued his way alone. It was now fully one
o'clock, and the streets were quite deserted. During the whole of his
walk with the companions