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Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916

"Ranson's Folly"

I had the unpleasant conviction that at any
moment I might step over a precipice. Since I had set out, I had
heard no traffic in the street, and now, although I listened some
minutes, I could only distinguish the occasional footfalls of
pedestrians. Several times I called aloud, and once a jocular
gentleman answered me, but only to ask me where I thought he was, and
then even he was swallowed up in the silence. Just above me I could
make out a jet of gas which I guessed came from a street-lamp, and I
moved over to that, and, while I tried to recover my bearings, kept
my hand on the iron post. Except for this nicker of gas, no larger
than the tip of my finger, I could distinguish nothing about me. For
the rest, the mist hung between me and the world like a damp and
heavy blanket.
"I could hear voices, but I could not tell from whence they came, and
the scrape of a foot, moving cautiously, or a muffled cry as someone
stumbled, were the only sounds that reached me.
"I decided that until someone took me in I had best remain where I
was, and it must have been for ten minutes that I waited by the lamp,
straining my ears and hailing distant footfalls.


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