On the windy night of January 27, I saw an old friend namely Terrence Williams round the south end of the city. I observed his face and manner and knew that some matter had set him on edge; so I sympathetically invited him to tea at a local inn. However, he strangely preferred a place where the light was sufficient. After some time, we found a place and sat inside at a small table. After some tender encouragement, he began to explain that he felt that someone or something had followed him for the last two nights. He could scarcely see it, but he knew one thing.
"Whoever or whatever it may be, it dreads light!"