Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A MysteryFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction
CHAPTER XX.
DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.
His familiarity with the regulations and movements of the police
hailing from the Bishop Street Police Station was of assistance to
him. He knew that one end of Constable Applebee's beat was close to
Catchpole Square, and his design was to watch for that officer's
approach, and to remain hidden till he turned in the opposite
direction. This would ensure him freedom of action for some fifteen or
twenty minutes, time sufficient to enable him to mount the wall. He
experienced little difficulty in the execution of this design.
Constable Applebee sauntered to the end of his beat, lingered a moment
or two, and then began to retrace his steps. Dick now prepared for
action. "I really think," he mused, "that I should shine as a
burglar."
There were few persons in the streets, and none in the thoroughfare on
which the dead wall abutted. The first step to be taken was to
ascertain if any person was in the house. He turned, therefore, into
Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows. There was no light in
them, and from the position in which he stood he could discern no
signs of life within. No long neglected cemetery could have presented
a more desolate appearance. He knocked at the door, and his summons,
many times repeated, met with no response. Dick did all this in a
leisurely manner, being prepared with an answer in case an explanation
was demanded. So absolutely imperative was it that he should be
convinced that the house was uninhabited before he forced an entrance
that he kept in the Square fully a quarter of an hour, at the
expiration of which he passed through Deadman's Court, and was once
more in front of the dead wall. Stealing to each end of the
thoroughfare to see that no person was in view, he unwound the rope
from his body, and fixed upon the spot to fling the grapnel. The first
throw was unsuccessful; and the second; but at the third the grapnel
caught, and Dick pulled at it hard in order to be sure that it was
fast. Then, moistening the palms of his hands, and muttering, "Now,
then, old Jack and the beanstalk," he commenced to climb.
It was not an easy task, partly in consequence of his inexperience at
this kind of work, and partly because of the bulging of the large
bottle of water under his waistcoat. But Dick was not to be beaten;
not only were all the latent forces of his mind in full play, but all
the latent forces of his body, and though his hands were chafed in the
execution of the task, and the perspiration streamed down his face, he
reached the top of the wall in safety, and with the bottle unbroken.
"Bravo, Dick," he gasped, pausing to recover his breath. "Humpty
Dumpty sat on a wall, I hope Humpty Dumpty won't have a bad fall. Take
care of yourself, Dick, for my sake."
Drawing up the rope he reversed the grapnel, fixed it tight, let the
rope drop on the inner side of the wall, and slid nimbly down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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