Suddenly a sort of stifled rushing noise issued from his lips, and he stole back on tiptoe to the passage without the room. There, in the weak lamplight, he fell against the wall, and his face was the color of straw paper and his lips were ashen. “He’s there,” he said, in a dreadful whisper. “He’s standing on the bridge waiting for me.” CHAPTER XXXVIII. A NIGHT PURSUIT. I rushed across the room and looked out through the dim glass. At first I could make out nothing until a faint form resolved itself suddenly into a face, gray and set as the block of stone it looked over. It never moved, but remained thus as if it were a sculptured death designed to take stock forever with a petrified stare of the crumbling mill. Then, as my eyes grew accustomed to the outlines, I saw that it leaned down in reality, with its chin resting on its hands that were crossed over the top of the parapet. Even at that distance I should have known the mouth, though the whole pose of the figure were not visible to convince me. Jason looked at me like a dying man when I returned to him. The full horror of a mortal fright, than which nothing is more painful to witness, spoke from his lungs, that heaved as if the sweet air had become a palpable thing to enter within and imprison his soul from all hope of escape. He tried to question me, but only sunk back with a moan. “Now,” I said, “you must summon all your resolution. Act promptly and in half an hour you will be beyond reach of him.” My own nerves were strung to devouring action. A kind of exultation fired me to master this tyranny of pursuit. Whatever might be its justification, the tactics of aggressive force should at least be open and human, I thought. “You don’t want to pass the night here?” He made a negative motion with his head. “I think you’re right. It might only be postponing the end. Will you place yourself in my hands?” He held out his arms to me imploringly. “Very well. Now, listen to me. There he will remain in all likelihood for some time, not knowing he is discovered. We must give him the slip--escape quietly at the back, while he is intent on the front.” I could only make out that his white lips whispered: “You won’t leave me?” “Not till all danger is past. I promise you.” I went over the house and quietly tested that every bolt and catch was secure. Then I fetched a dram of spirit, and made the poor, demoralized wretch swallow it. It brought a glint of color to his cheek--a little firmness to his limbs. “Another,” he whispered. “No,” I answered. “You want the nerve to act; not the overconfidence that leads to a false step. Come.” Together we stole to the rear of the building where the little platform hung above the race. I locked the door behind us and pocketed the key. “Now,” I said, “quietly and no hesitating. Follow me.”