It was nearby mid-night. Few people were about. There was a cold nip in the air. On his way he came across a policeman. The writer trembled because the policeman might take hi m for a thief. But the policeman took no notice of him. The writer drew a sigh of relief. Then he reached the embankment of the river.
On the bridge the writer tried to find a proper place to drop the sack. Once he was leaning against the low—wall and looking down into water. Suddenly he heard a step behind him. He sprang back and started walking with an air of carelessness. But the pedestrian was absorbed in thoughts. He was actually a tramp.
Then another idea disturbed him. He thought whoever was within sight and heard the splash he would rush and seize him suspecting that he had thrown a baby into the river. The idea tested teased him very much. He strode up and down the bridge-road summoning up his courage. At last, he dropped the sack. A vast splash was heard. Then silence fell again. Nobody came and the writer returned home feeling sad for his books.