Riderhood, leaning back in his wooden armchair with his arms folded on his breast, looked at him lying with his right hand clenched in his sleep and his teeth set, until a film came over his own sight, and he slept too. He awoke to find that it was daylight, and that his visitor was already astir, and going out to the riverside to cool his head:⁠—“Though I’m blest,” muttered Riderhood at the lock-house door, looking after him, “if I think there’s water enough in all the Thames to do that for you!” Within five minutes he had taken his departure, and was passing on into the calm distance as he had passed yesterday. Riderhood knew when a fish leaped, by his starting and glancing round.

“Lock ho! Lock!” at intervals all day, and “Lock ho! Lock!” thrice in the ensuing night, but no return of Bradley. The second day was sultry and oppressive. In the afternoon, a thunderstorm came up, and had but newly broken into a furious sweep of rain when he rushed in at the door, like the storm itself.

“You’ve seen him with her!” exclaimed Riderhood, starting up.