Excerpt from Taken From the Enemy
It was a bright frosty night towards the middle of March. The moon had risen an hour ago, and hung like a round mirror of burnished silver close above the glittering stream of Thames, as he swept broadening down to Westminster Bridge. The Abbey towers rose sharply into the clear air, and caught the moonlight full upon their heads, but beneath them on the further side lay a wide region of silent and mysterious shadow. In the shadow paced the figure of a man. By the slow and monotonous regularity of his footfalls as he passed backwards and forwards, you might have taken him for a sentinel on guard. But to a closer look the long high-collared coat, the quaint and ample outline of his hat, and a certain balance in his step betrayed the seafaring man, and gave a hint of his rank. His figure and the easy swing of his movements proclaimed him strong, but the obscurity concealed all other characteristics.
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