Arthur O'Leary: His Wanderings And Ponderings In Many LandsLever, Charles
General
Arthur O'Leary: His Wanderings And Ponderings In Many Lands
Lever, Charles
Fiction
‘A sudden thought struck me that I had done wrong. The fellow had
evidently some dark intention by his going back, and I repented bitterly
having allowed him to leave me. But then, what were easier for him than
to lead me where he pleased, had I retained him! and so I reflected,
when the noise of many voices speaking in a half-subdued accent came up
the street. I heard the sound, too, of a great many feet. My heart
sickened as the idea of murder, so associated with the place, flashed
across me; and I had just time to squeeze myself within the shelter of
the doorway, when the party came up.
‘“Somewhere hereabouts, you said, wasn’t it?” said one in a good accent
and a deep clear voice.
‘“Oui-da!” said the man I had spoken to, while he felt with his hands
upon the walls and doorway of the opposite house. “Halloa there!” he
shouted.
‘“Be still, you fool! don’t you think that he suspects something by this
time? Did the others go down the Rue des Loups?”
‘“Yes, yes,” said a voice close to where I stood.
‘“Then all’s safe; he can’t escape that way. Strike a light, Pierre.”
‘A tall figure, wrapped up in a cloak, produced a tinder-box, and began
to clink deliberately with a steel and flint. Every flash showed me some
savage-looking face, where crime and famine struggled for mastery; while
I could mark that many had large clubs of wood, and one or two were
armed with swords. I drew my breath with short efforts, and was
preparing myself for the struggle, in which, though I saw death before
me, I resolved to sell life dearly, when a hand was passed across the
pillar of the door, and rested on my leg. For a second it never stirred;
then slowly moved up to my knee, where it stopped again. My heart seemed
to cease its beating; I felt like one around whose body some snake is
coiling, fold after fold, his slimy grasp. The hand was gently
withdrawn, and before I could recover from my surprise I was seized by
the throat and hurled out into the street. A savage laugh rang through
the crowd, and a lantern, just lighted, was held up to my face, while he
who spoke first called out--
‘“You didn’t dream of escaping us, _bête_, did you?” ‘At the same moment
hands were thrust into my various pockets; the few silver pieces I
possessed were taken, my watch torn off, my hat examined, and the lining
of my coat ripped open--and all so speedily, that I saw at once I had
fallen into experienced hands.
‘“Where do you live in Paris?” said the first speaker, still holding the
light to my face, and staring fixedly at me.
‘“I am a stranger and alone,” said I, for the thought struck me that in
such a circumstance frankness was as good policy as any other. “I came
here to-night to see the cathedral, and lost my way in returning.”
‘“But where do you live--in what quarter of Paris?” ‘“The Rue d’Alger;
No. 12; the second storey.” ‘“What effects have you there in money?”
‘“One English bank-note for five pounds; nothing more.”
‘“Any jewels, or valuables of any kind?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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