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A Rogue's Life-Part15_WILKIE COLLINS (1824-1899)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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gentleman here is rather a shifty sort of chap; and it strikes me



that two of us isn't a bit too much to watch him."

"What's that?" exclaimed Sam's comrade, suspiciously.



A crash of broken crockery in the lower part of the house had

followed that last word of the cautious officer's speech.



Naturally, I could draw no special inference from the sound; but,

for all that, it filled me with a breathless interest and



suspicion, which held me irresistibly at the peephole--though the

moment before I had made up my mind to fly from the house.



"Moses is awkward as well as lazy," said the doctor. "He has

dropped the tray! Oh, dear, dear me! he has certainly dropped the



tray."

"Let's take our learned friend downstairs between us," suggested



Sam. "I shan't be easy till we've got him out of the house."

"And I shan't be easy if we don't handcuff him before we leave



the room," returned the other.

"Rude conduct, gentlemen--after all that has passed, remarkably



rude conduct," said the doctor. "May I, at least, get my hat

while my hands are at liberty? It hangs on that peg opposite to



us." He moved toward it a few steps into the middle of the room

while he spoke.



"Stop!" said Sam; "I'll get your hat for you. We'll see if

there's anything inside it or not, before you put it on."



The doctor stood stockstill, like a soldier at the word, Halt.

"And I'll get the handcuffs," said the other runner, searching



his coat-pockets.

The doctor bowed to him assentingly and forgivingly .



"Only oblige me with my hat, and I shall be quite ready for you,"

he said--paused for one moment, then repeated the words, "Quite



ready," in a louder tone--and instantly disappeared through the

floor!



I saw the two officers rush from opposite ends of the room to a

great opening in the middle of it. The trap-door on which the



doctor had been standing, and on which he had descended, closed

up with a bang at the same moment; and a friendly voice from the



lower regions called out gayly, "Good-by!"

The officers next made for the door of the room. It had been



locked from the other side. As they tore furiously at the handle,

the roll of the wheels of the doctor's gig sounded on the drive



in front of the house; and the friendly voice called out once

more, "Good-by!"



I waited just long enough to see the baffled officers unbarring

the window shutters for the purpose of giving the alarm, before I



closed the peephole, and with a farewell look at the distorted

face of my prostrate enemy, Screw, left the room.



The doctor's study-door was open as I passed it on my way

downstairs. The locked writing-desk, which probably contained the



only clew to Alicia's retreat that I was likely to find, was in

its usual place on the table. There was no time to break it open



on the spot. I rolled it up in my apron, took it off bodily under

my arm, and descended to the iron door on the staircase. Just as



I was within sight of it, it was opened from the landing on the

other side. I turned to run upstairs again, when a familiar voice



cried, "Stop!" and looking round, I beheld Young File.

"All right!" he said. "Father's off with the governor in the gig,



and the runners in hiding outside are in full cry after them. If

Bow Street can get within pistol-shot of the blood mare, all I



can say is, I give Bow Street full leave to fire away with both

barrels! Where's Screw?"



"Gagged by me in the casting-room."

"Well done, you! Got all your things, I see, under your arm? Wait



two seconds while I grab my money. Never mind the rumpus

upstairs--there's nobody outside to help them; and the gate's



locked, if there was."

He darted past me up the stairs. I could hear the imprisoned



officers shouting for help from the top windows. Their reserve

men must have been far away, by this time, in pursuit of the gig;



and there was not much chance of their getting useful help from

any stray countryman who might be passing along the road, except



in the way of sending a message to Barkingham. Anyhow we were

sure of a half hour to escape in, at the very least.



"Now then," said Young File, rejoining me; "let's be off by the

back way through the plantations. How came you to lay your lucky



hands on Screw?" he continued, when we had passed through the

iron door, and had closed it after us.






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