The light he carried
declined from a beam to a twinkling here and there, and then vanished in
blackness. Dr. Jallup's house became dead again. The little porch light
in its glass box might have been a candle burning before a tomb.
Peter Siner stood at the fence, licking his dry lips, with nerves
vibrating like a struck bell. He pushed himself slowly away from the top
plank and found his legs so weak that he could hardly walk. He moved
slowly, back down the unseen street. The dog he had disturbed gave a few
last growls and settled into silence.
Peter moved along, wetting his dry lips, and stirring feebly among his
dazed thoughts, hunting some other plan of action. There was a tiny
burning spot on the left side of his occiput. It felt like a heated
cambric needle which had been slipped into his scalp. Then he realized
that he must go home, get ten dollars, and bring them back to Dr.
Jallup. He started to run, but almost toppled over on his leaden legs.
He plodded through the darkness, retracing the endless trail to
Niggertown. As he passed a dark mass of shrubbery and trees, he recalled
his mother's advice to ask aid of Captain Renfrew.
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