However, all the while, in spite of her stimulation of spirits, there was that vague sense of excitement, as over some impending crisis.  That she could not throw off.  Suddenly she found herself searching the road ahead of her, and often turning at the fancied sound of a footstep.  She began to wish that her father had come with her; then she told herself how foolish she was, for he had a cold, and this keen air would have been sure to give him more.  The electric-car passed her, and she had a grateful sense of companionship.  She looked after its diminishing light in the distance, and almost wished that she had stopped it, but car-fares had to be counted carefully.

She began to dread unspeakably passing the factories.  She told herself that there was no sense in it, that it was not late, that the electric-light made it like high noon, that there was a watchman in each building, that there was nothing whatever to fear; but it was in vain.  It was only by a great effort of her will that she did not turn and go back home when she reached Lloyd’s.

Lloyd’s came first; then, a few rods farther, on the other side of the street, McGuire’s, and then Briggs’s.

Ellen had a library book under her arm, and she clutched her dress-skirt firmly.  A terror as to the supernatural was stealing over her.  She felt as she had when waking in the night from some dreadful dream, though all the time she was dinning in her ears how foolish she was.  She saw the lantern of the night-watchman in Lloyd’s moving down a stair which crossed a window.

She came opposite Lloyd’s, and, just as she did so, saw a dark figure descending the right-hand flight of stairs from the entrance platform.  She thought, from something in the carriage, that it was Mr. Lloyd, and hung back a little, reflecting that she would keep behind him all the way to town.

The man reached the ground at the foot of the stairs, then there was a flash of fire from the shadow underneath, and a shot rang out.  Ellen did what she could never have counted upon herself for doing.  She ran straight towards the man, who had fallen prostrate like a log, and was down on the ground beside him, with his head on her lap, shouting for the night-watchman, whose name was McLaughlin.

“McLaughlin!” she shouted.  But there was no need of it, for he had heard the shot.  The cry had not left Ellen’s lips before she was surrounded by men, one of whom was Granville Joy, one was Dixon, and one was John Sargent.

Joy and Sargent had met down-town, and were walking home together, when the shot rang out, and they had rushed forward.  Then there was McLaughlin, the watchman of Lloyd’s, and the two watchmen from Briggs’s and McGuire’s came pelting down their stairs, swinging their lanterns.

They all stood around the wounded man and Ellen, and stared for a second.  They were half stupefied.

“My God! this is a bad job,” said Dixon.