He was wet through now--thoroughly wet. He must have been soaked before that great heat came upon him. It was very extraordinary that he should feel so hot while the water was absolutely running down under his clothes. Ah, a chill now! Unmistakably a chill, and he could see no sign of human habitation anywhere--no place which could afford him shelter. In fact, he could make nothing whatever out except the rain, and that was revealed to him by the sense of touch, not by the sense of sight. How cold the rain was, too! He had never felt rain so cold. The air must then be twenty degrees colder than it had been a few minutes ago. He had never until now experienced so sudden a fall of temperature. He was shivering, too. His teeth were chattering. How delighted he would be to find any kind of shelter, and a good fire to warm himself at! This was very lonely and wretched. He was hardly able to walk now, and yet with his present chill anything was better than to stand. The thought of sitting down was out of the question. No one but a madman would sit down in such rain, and with clothes soaked through. He had been miserably wrong to uncover his head for so long a time. To that foolish act must be attributed this chill. Ugh! he was barely able to stagger along. This was the most dismal night he had ever passed in all his life. But uncovering his head to the rain was not the only foolish thing he had done this night. Had he not wandered sillily along some roads--he knew not where--until he had lost his way? Now he was far from lamplight--where he knew not; whither to turn he could not decide if he had a choice. At present he every now and then ran up against the hedge, and this was the only thing which told him he was walking on a road. He wondered what o'clock it was. When did he leave that dreadful room where the inquest had been held? He could not tell, but it was the moment Blake's evidence was over. The moment Blake moved from the table at which the coroner sat, he had stolen away, and, he thought, run a good while, until he was out of breath. How long that was since he could not tell--could not guess. Merciful Heavens! Suppose the night was yet young--suppose it was now no more than midnight, or eleven, or ten o'clock--what was to become of him? There would be no daylight until close to seven. Could it be that he would have to wander on thus for eight or ten hours more? The thought was absurd. He should drop down of exhaustion, of cold, long before that time. Cold! Why, what could be the meaning of this? Already the feeling of cold was passing away, and he felt quite warm--very hot. This was an improvement on the sensation a little while ago.