The Boy Soldier; Or, Garibaldi's Young Captain — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

14 He sounded the walls in every direction, and yet he could not find the secret entrance through which the assassin had got in. The door was fast giving way to the terrible blows delivered on it by the powerful arms of two or three determined officers. There was no light in the room, and Warner could see by the fitful rays of their lanterns through a broken panel how fierce and determinedly the constables were working to get in. “One moment more, and the hounds are upon me,” said the desperate villain. Least when he expected it, the door fell in upon the floor with a loud crash. The officers and others rushed into the room. Several of them stumbled over the dead man’s body, and were smeared with blood. Warner, unseen, retreated behind the bed- curtains, and ‘fell against a panel of the wains- coting. It gave way |! A single panel turned on its hinges ! , He fell through it, whither he knew not. It was a tremendous fall ! The secret panel closed on its hinges again. The officers were foiled ! _ The villain escaped ! _—-OoOor CHAPTER VI. THE ALARM—THE PURSUIT—BILL BARNEY, THE HALF-BRED PUG—CABBY AND HIS SUSPICIOUS FARE—OLD FLINT IS FLEECED—CABBY DRIVES OLD FLINT HOME, AND THINKS HE SMELLS A MOUSE. OLD FLINT, the cunning, foxy lawyer, had not gone far on his way home when he overtook two policemen. They were Sergeant Ruff and policeman Tomkins, No. 61 Z. ‘<I don’t care what anybody says, sergeant,’’ Tom- kins observed, ‘ I always did and always shall think that that there house is no good, and so that’s flat. It looks like a murderer’s den to me, and always did. It’s so gloomy, and stands out o’ the way of all other houses, as if it had a guilty conscience, and didn’t want to be stared at much.” Sergeant Ruff laughed, as he remarked quietly, “Ah, my boy, you haven’t seen as much o’ this here world as Ihave. When you’ve been six-and- twenty years in the force you’ll not be so taken up with the look o’ houses as the physogs o’ cracks- men and the lik,” ‘That may be, Sergeant Ruff,” Tomkins answered, “ but no good ’11 come out 0’ that ’ere queer-looking place, if I’m any judge, for it looka to me more like a genteel ‘smasher’s crib,’ or some respectable ‘fence,’ than anything else. And talking of queer-looking faces, I must say I see two or three 0’ sich like about and around my beat to-night as I never seed afore.” : “Ah! indeed! you never mentioned it before, Tomkins. Was to-night the first time you observed them ?” * ‘No. Me and Smithers, 47 Y, whose beat joins mine at top o’ the street, have noticed it all this week ; but, barring the looks o’ the chaps, I didn’t see anything worth talking of. Nothing was done, you know. All my beat and his was quiet and snug ; but I didn’t fail to make a note or twoin my book, for the inspector’s use, if required.” “Quite right, Tomkins, quite right.” The two policemen walked on slowly, and Flint heard no more, for he hastily turned down a bye- street without being seen by either of the officers. 2 THE BOY SOLDIER; OR, GARIBALDIS YOUNG CAPTAIN. He had not gone many yards—in truth, he had but just turned the corner out of view—when his heart beat wildly, and his. limbs trembled so violently that he could scarcely walk. ; , ‘‘Mur-d-e-r! mur-d-e-r!’’ faintly cried some distant voice that was borne on the passing breeze. He stopped near the entrance to a mews, and under its dark shade he listened with distended eyes, ‘‘Mur-d-e-r! mut-d-e-r!” were the ominous sounds which greeted his astonished ears. In an instant he heard the rapid footsteps of the _two officers running up the silent street. In a few moments, several rattles were sprung. Pee - The echo grated upon his ears, and seemed to - cut his very heart strings asunder. A flash of lightning—a vivid unearthly, blinding flash —crossed the street. - , . % A terrific peal of thunder crashed over his head. “The vengeance of heaven follows me!” he moaned, and sank down in his hiding-place more dead than alive. ~ « Murd-e-r! murd-e-r!” still rang out through the streets with heart- chilling echoes. The policeman’s rattle was sprung again and again. A cold sweat oozed from his body, and his teeth chattered like one attacked with deadly ague, From all directions he heard heayy-booted police- men running towards the scene of blood ! He perceived two of them rapidly approaching the spot where he then stood. His heart almost leaped into his mouth, and he could have shouted out aloud with mental torture. “The deed is done! Ford is dead! I know it—l feel it !’”’ he gasped. word, and T have been false to mine! No matter. Oh! that I were safe in my office—a thousand pounds to be anywhere but here.” The two officers he had heard approaching him slackened their pace, out of breath, as they came nearer to the mews. “T am betrayed !” caught, and has confessed all. they have tracked me !” He fell in the corner in which he stood ; but the two officers passed him by. Oh! what a relief it was to Flint. ~ He felt as if a ton weight had been lifted off his shoulders. ““Tmust be quick,” he muttered. ‘‘The whole neighbourhood will be aroused in a few moments,” As he spoke he heard windows raised in all directions, and could plainly catch the distant sound of voices murmuring in the direction of old Ford’s house. By a lucky chance a four-wheel cab came into the street at a slow pace. . The horse and driver seemed drenched with rain. ‘Drive on cabby, be quick !” said the voice of some one inside ; “drive sharply, I tell you, and Pll pay you well.” “All right, sir,” said cabby, an old man, clay pipe in mouth, muffled up to the nose in endless handkerchiefs and wrappers; “all right, sir, ’ll go as fast as I can,” and whipped up his poor jaded beast accordingly, All the whips in the world, however, would not have forced that poor, weak and broken-winded animal to hold up his head and go faster, it was not in him, and cabby knew it, for he was a “long night man,” and any sort of horse is con- he moaned. ‘Warner is T am a dead man! sidered good enough for a stormy night, whether it” be lame, broken-winded, or eyen half-dead, “Drive on, cabby, drive on,” said the impatient gentleman inside, chook ‘‘ Warner has been true to his: