[Pg 31] I quickened my pace to a run, and at the further end looked anxiously ahead, but could see no trace of them. There were more people stirring in the Westminster Bridge Road, even at this hour; street hawkers starting home with their sodden barrows, the usual disreputable knot of loungers gathered around a coffee-stall; but those whom I looked for had vanished. Swiftly as they were walking they could scarcely have traversed the distance between the bridge and the trams in so short a time. Had they gone down the steps to the river embankment? I paused and listened, thought I heard a faint patter, as of a woman’s high heels on the stone steps, and ran down the flight. The paved walk below St. Thomas’ Hospital was deserted; I could see far in the moonlight. But near at hand I heard the plash of oars. I looked around and saw that to the right there was a second flight of steps, almost under the shadow of the first arch of the bridge, and leading right down to the river. I vaulted the bar that guarded the top of the flight and ran down the steps. Yes, there was the boat, with the sailor and another man pulling at the oars, and the woman sitting in the stern. The scarf had slipped back a little, and I saw the glint of her bright hair. “Anne! Anne!” I cried desperately. She heard and turned her face. My God, it was Anne herself! For a second only I saw her face distinctly, then she pulled the scarf over it [Pg 32]with a quick gesture; the boat shot under the dark shadow of the arches and disappeared. [Pg 32] I stood dumbfounded for some minutes, staring at the river, and trying to convince myself that I was mad—that I had dreamt the whole incident. When at last I turned to retrace my steps I saw something dark lying at the top of the steps, stooped, and picked it up. It was a spray of scarlet geranium! [Pg 33] [Pg 33]
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