But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. “One would think I had said nothing about the matter. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. Gay. No one would ever know what happened to him.
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