The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 49: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. ‘Silent as the grave!” he muttered. ‘‘ silent as the grave! and I am cramped up so that I can scarcely move. Curses on that queer place to work in! I have, however, made a hole in the brickwork now large enough to get through, so that at the very worst I could conceal myself in the vault. Some folks would not like such a place of refuge; but I have seen death and its victims in too many shapes to care how it is presented to me now. A vault, indeed! What is a vault to me?” He listened again, but all remained as still and calm as before, and then picked his way slowly among the tombs in a crouching attitude, for fear of being seen by any one who might by possi- bility be out, or who might be looking from one of the cottage windows of the surrounding picturesque-looking habitations. ‘*So,” he muttered, as he walked nearly to the confines of the space allotted for the repose of the dead, ‘‘so they fancy I have gone, and that they are rid of me, which no doubt pleased them much, as they havea richer guest at the Morton Arms; but they are most grievously mistaken, as yet they will find. I will go truly, but not till I have left behind me some stronger remem- branee than an empty curse.” The mode of entrance and of exit which was attached to the little rude churchyard, consisted of a wicket-gate without a fastening, so that any one, at any hour, could seek that place of holy and hallowed thoughts without having to apply to any official upon the subject. Through the wicket-gate passed the mendicant, and from there he gained the principal thoroughfare in the village. It was not, however, as may be well supposed, his intention to linger long there. Darting across the main street, with great rapidity, he was soon in the gloom of the large shadows cast by the moonlight on the hedgerows and gardens. He had taken care to note well the position of the inn, and now his object evidently was to gain the back part of the building, which was by no means difficult of access to any one who knew the route to take. ‘‘ Let me consider,” he said; ‘‘ I cannot be wrong in my man. Young, rather tall, and,inclined to be fair; gray eyes, and ridin a valuable bay horse. Yes, he is my man; I must and I wil have those papers. With them, to achieve all I wish will be easy; without them, I can do but little, if anything. I will not be foiled. A man who has no scruples as to the means, can almost always accomplish what he determines upon, and no scruples have I. I have waded through blood enough not much to mind another murder.” By this time he had arrived at a farm, which divided a long strip of land, which was converted into a kitchen-garden, from an adjoining meadow. This kitchen-garden actually belonged to the inn, so that, when he crept under the fence, which he did, he was actually on the premises which it was his object to reach. He paused a moment now, to listen if any sound met his ear indicative of any one stirring in the mn; but all was as still as that lonely graveyard in which he had concealed himself for several hours. ‘‘ All’s safe,” he muttered: ‘‘all’s safe. Now, to think of comicbooks. com