The Watcher | Page 4

from whom he had just parted, he had been
at times painfully aware of the sound of steps, as it seemed, dogging
them on their way. Once or twice he had looked back, in the uneasy
anticipation that he was again about to experience the same mysterious
annoyances which had so much disconcerted him a week before, and
earnestly hoping that he might "see" some form from whom the sounds
might naturally proceed. But the street was deserted; no form was
visible. Proceeding now quite alone upon his homeward way, he grew
really nervous and uncomfortable, as he became sensible, with
increased distinctness, of the well-known and now absolutely dreaded
sounds.
By the side of the dead wall which bounded the College Park, the
sounds followed, recommencing almost simultaneously with his own
steps. The same unequal pace -- sometimes slow, sometimes, for a
score yards or so, quickened to a run-- was audible from behind him.
Again and again he turned; quickly and stealthily he glanced over his
shoulder, almost at every half-dozen steps; but no one was visible. The
horrors of this intangible and unseen persecution became gradually all
but intolerable; and when at last he reached his home, his nerves were
strung to such a pitch of excitement that he could not rest, and did not
attempt even to lie down until after the day-light had broken.
He was awakened by a knock at his chamber-door, and his servant

entering, handed him several letters which had just been received by
the penny post. One among them instantly arrested his attention; a
single glance at the direction aroused him thoroughly. He at once
recognized its character, and read as follows: --
"You may as well think, Captain Barton, to escape from your own
shadow as from me; do what you may, I will see you as often as I
please, and you shall see me, for I do not want to hide myself, as you
fancy. Do not let it trouble your rest, Captain Barton; for, with a 'good
conscience,' what need you fear from the eye of
"The Watcher."
It is scarcely necessary to dwell upon the feelings elicited by a perusal
of this strange communication. Captain Barton was observed to be
unusually absent and out of spirits for several days afterwards; but no
one divined the cause. Whatever he might think as to the phantom steps
which followed him, there could be no possible illusion about the
letters he had received; and, to say the least of it, their immediate
sequence upon the mysterious sounds which had haunted him was an
odd coincidence. The whole circumstance was, in his own mind,
vaguely and instinctively connected with certain passages in his past
life, which, of all others, he hated to remember.
It happened, however, that in addition to his own approaching nuptials,
Captain Barton had just then -- fortunately, perhaps, for himself--some
business of an engrossing kind connected with the adjustment of a large
and long-litigated claim upon certain properties. The hurry and
excitement of business had its natural effect in gradually dispelling the
marked gloom which had for a time occasionally oppressed him, and in
a little while his spirits had entirely resumed their accustomed tone.
During all this time, however, he was occasionally dismayed by
indistinct and half-heard repetitions of the same annoyance, and that in
lonely places, in the day time as well as after nightfall. These renewals
of the strange impressions from which he had suffered so much were,
however, desultory and faint, insomuch that often he really could not,
to his own satisfaction, distinguish between them and the mere

suggestions of an excited imagination. One evening he walked down to
the House of Commons with a Mr. Norcott, a member. As they walked
down together, he was observed to become absent and silent, and to a
degree so marked as scarcely to consist with good breeding; and this, in
one who was obviously, in all his habits, so perfectly a gentleman,
seemed to argue the pressure of some urgent and absorbing anxiety. It
was afterwards known that, during the whole of that walk, he had heard
the well-known footsteps dogging him as he proceeded. This, however,
was the last time he suffered from this phase of the persecution, of
which he was already the anxious victim. A new and a very different
one was about to be presented.
Of the new series of impressions which were afterwards gradually to
work out his destiny, that evening disclosed the first; and but for its
relation to the train of events which followed, the incident would
scarcely have been remembered by any one. As they were walking in at
the passage, a man, of whom his friend could afterwards remember
only that he was short in stature, looked