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The Vast Abyss, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 44 |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. He uttered his low, sniggering, malicious laugh again, and without a word went off towards the back, disappearing into the darkness, and then, unseen by Sam, crawling over the wall like some great dark slug, leaving the London boy alone with his thoughts, as he kept close up to the mill, and gazed toward the cottage, dreading moment by moment an interruption from that direction. His thoughts were not pleasant company. For there he was upon his uncle's property, feeling that not only had he come down there in the character of a thief, but circumstances had forced him into taking for confederate about as low-typed and blackguardly a young scoundrel as there was for twenty miles round. He had been forced to bribe the fellow heavily for him, and in addition to place himself entirely at his mercy, so that in the future, if he was successful in getting the papers, this scoundrel would be always coming upon him for money, and getting it by threats. "I can't help it," muttered Sam; "it's the gov'nor's fault, and he'll have to pay for it all. He sent me, and--pooh, it isn't stealing. It's all in the family, and I've a better right to have what there is than young Tom Blount." Sam tried to think of other things, but two matters had it all their own way--the dread of being caught, and the coming of Pete with the ladder. But the time wore on, and neither event seemed likely to happen. He grew hotter and hotter; every now and then he felt a peculiar nervous attack in one leg, which made his right knee tremble violently, and again and again he was on the point of rushing off, leaping the wall, and making for the open country, when at last he heard some faint noise coming out of the darkness. Once he felt that all was over, and there was nothing left for him to do but flee. For there were heavy steps in the lane coming nearer and nearer, till they stopped opposite the gate, and Sam's heart throbbed like the beating of a soft mallet. "Policeman!" he thought, and he would have turned to run, but his feet felt as if glued to the ground, and the agony he suffered was intense. Just as he was at the worst point, there was a scratching sound, a gleam of light, the smell of tobacco, and directly after the steps were heard again, to pass on and die out in the distance. "'Conscience makes cowards of us all,'" Sam might have said, but he did not know the words; and so he only wiped his forehead, and began to think of how he could get back to town, for it was perfectly evident that Pete had got all he could out of him, and, so far from returning with a ladder, in all probability he had invented the whole story, and there was no ladder anywhere nearer than in the rascal's imagination. The moments passed on like minutes, and Sam felt as if an hour must have passed. "It's of no use," he said to himself; "he has been too sharp for me, and I shall have to come down as the dad said, and take my chance. I can do no more." He sighed in his misery and dread, for he knew that there was an all-night walk before him, till he could take one of the earliest morning trains somewhere on the road. But it had to be done, and he went from out of the deep black shadow of the mill to the wall where he came over, and was in the act of raising himself up, when his neck was caught as if in a fork, and he was thrown down on to his back. Then, as he struggled up, he grasped the fact that Pete must have been coming back, and thrust the top of the ladder over first, sending the ends on each side of his neck. "Don't do that, mate," came to him in a sharp whisper from the wall. "Ketch hold and steady it while I run it to you." Sam caught hold of the ladder eagerly, forgetting the pain in satisfaction, and the next minute the bottom round rested on the top of the wall. Then Pete crept over, slug fashion, and lifted the end off and set it down. "There y'are," he said. "What a while you've been," whispered Sam. "Oh, have I! Juss you go and fetch it yerself, and see how quick you'd be. It was worth two shillin' to go for that; there, hyste it up and in with you." "Hoist the ladder by myself?" "Yes, it's easy enough. Bottom's heavy and top's light. Shall I do it?" "Yes, quickly." "'Nother shillin'. I arn't going to have nothing to do with it, and so I tell yer, without." "I wish you wouldn't speak so loudly," whispered Sam impatiently. "Yah! go on! nobody can't hear us. Where's that shillin'?" "I told you I wouldn't give you any more," said Sam, stoutly now, "and I won't." Pete chuckled. "All right; I'll hyste the ladder, only mind you telled me to--it was your doing." "Yes, my doing," said Sam, who was full of nervous impatience. "Be smart; here, I'll help." "I can do it," said Pete, and with two or three sharp jerks he raised the ladder right on end, and then, after working it round two or three times, let the light narrow end down against the railing, just in front of the long shutter on the rounded roof. "Will it bear me?" whispered Sam nervously. "Bear a dozen on yer. Up you goes, and I'll keep watch. If young Tom Ugly Blount comes, shall I give him one over the head?" "Yes," whispered Sam, as he began to mount. "Shove yer hand under the door, and yer can feel the bolt directly. You can open it. Look alive." Sam mounted round by round, wondering whether the thin ladder would bear his weight or collapse and let him down, as a punishment for the degrading crime he was about to commit; and the higher he went, and the ladder vibrated more easily, the more nervous he grew. Twice he stopped breathless and full of dread. "Is it safe?" he whispered. "Yes; up with yer." Then he grasped the railing, stepped over into the little gallery, and, stooping down, soon found that he could unbolt the shutter. The next minute he was inside, and descending at once into the laboratory, he took the screw-driver from his pocket, and had no difficulty in prizing open the drawers, the wood bending enough to set free the catch. A match gave him sufficient light, and when he paused before the right drawer, in which were several carefully-sealed-up papers and envelopes, he hesitated, wondering which would be the documents he wished to secure. Helped by so feeble a light, it was hard work to tell, and at last he came to the conclusion that it would be best to make sure; and to this end he gathered all together, and thrust them, to the number of eight or nine, into his breast-pocket and buttoned his jacket. "Hurrah!" he muttered. "Safe. Now for home." He had hardly conceived this thought, when a sound overhead caught his ear, and he felt for the moment that Pete had come to see what he was doing. The next minute he was in full flight, pursued by Tom, as we have seen, and at last reached the ground, thanks to the help of Pete, who, after lying in hiding while the ladder was lowered, hurriedly raised it again. Just as Tom was half-way down Pete gave the ladder a wrench, hoisted one leg, and sent it sidewise. Then-- "This way," he whispered, catching Sam's hand, guiding him to the corner of the yard, and as soon as they were over leading the way at a steady dog-trot. "You keep alongside me," he said; "I'll show yer a near cut. Where do you want to go?" "I want to get on the main road two or three miles away," whispered Sam. "All right. Did you get it?" "Yes, but don't talk." "Shall if I like," growled Pete. "I say, look here. I arn't seen you ter-night, and I don't know nothin' about that ladder. Let 'em think it was Tom Ugly Blount. But I say, you'll give me another shillin'?" "I'll give you two," panted Sam, "if you'll promise never to blab." "You're a good 'un," said Pete, laughing softly. "Won't ketch me talking. Hand over; and if you come down again I'll help yer any night. I hates that there t'other chap, but I likes you." "Thankye," said Sam, who gave the lad a couple of shillings more, when, as good as his word, Pete guided him to the road a good three miles on his way. "Good-night, mate," the lad said, holding out his hand. "Mate!" thought Sam in disgust, as he felt constrained to shake hands. "I say, I know: you're going on to London." "Am I? you don't know," said Sam hurriedly. "But I say, are you going home to bed now?" "No," said Pete, with a chuckle; "I'm going back to my roost in the wood. Good-night, matey." "Good-night," said Sam; and he started off at a rapid rate along the hard road, feeling the papers tightly buttoned up in his pocket, where they soon grew hot, and as if they were going to burn his chest. "Oh, what a terrible walk," he muttered; "and that fellow will know I'm making for London. Don't matter," he said directly after; "he won't tell tales, and if he comes up, ferrets us out, and wants more money, the gov'nor 'll have to pay." Pete went back to his sandy hole, and in an hour was fast asleep, while Sam was plodding steadily on toward the great city, growing more and more weary as the hours passed, and longing to lie down and sleep, but dreading to do this for fear of some policeman or tramp coming upon him, when he felt that the result would be the same--the papers he had gone through so much to obtain would be found, and perhaps pass entirely from his hands. _ |
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