Adventure stories, English; France -- History -- Consulate and First Empire, 1799-1815 -- Fiction; Soldiers of fortune -- Fiction
Between twenty and thirty persons had now collected; and I saw myself,
to my unspeakable shame and mortification, the centre of all their looks
and speculations. A little more _aplomb_ or knowledge of life would have
taught me coolness enough in a few words to undeceive them; but such a
task was far above me now, and I saw nothing for it but flight. Could I
only have known which way to take, I need not have feared any pursuer,
for I was a capital runner, and in high condition; but of the locality
I was utterly ignorant, and should only surrender myself to mere chance.
With a bold rush, then, I dashed right through the crowd, and set off
down the street, the whole crew after me.
[Illustration: 369]
The dusk of the closing evening was in my favour; and although
volunteers were enlisted in the chase at every corner and turning, I
distanced them, and held on my way in advance. My great object being not
to turn on my course, lest I should come back to my starting point,
I directed my steps nearly straight onward, clearing apple-stalls and
fruit-tables at a bound, and more than once taking a flying-leap over an
Indian’s fire, when the mad shout of the red man would swell the chorus
that followed me. At last I reached a network of narrow lanes and
alleys, by turning and wending through which I speedily found myself
in a quiet secluded spot, with here and there a flickering candle-light
from the windows, but no other sign of habitation. I looked anxiously
about for an open door; but they were all safe barred and fastened; and
it was only on turning a corner I spied what seemed to me a little shop,
with a solitary lamp over the entrance. A narrow canal, crossed by a
rickety old bridge, led to this; and the moment I had crossed over, I
seized the single plank which formed the footway, and shoved it into the
stream. My retreat being thus secured, I opened the door, and entered.
It was a barber’s shop; at least, so a great chair before a cracked old
looking-glass, with some well-worn combs and brushes, bespoke it; but
the place seemed untenanted, and although I called aloud several times,
no one came or responded to my summons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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