But, as I drew nearer, my attention was attracted by something white
that was nailed up against the finger-post, and I stopped dead, with my
eyes riveted by a word printed in great black capitals, and stood
oblivious alike of the man who had stopped eating to stare at me, and
the bread and meat that he had set down upon the grass; for what I saw
was this:
G. R.
MURDER
L500———REWARD
WHEREAS, PETER SMITH, blacksmith, late of
SISSINGHURST, in the county of Kent,
suspected of the crime of WILFUL MURDER,
did upon the Tenth of August last, make his
escape from his gaolers, upon the Tonbridge
road, somewhere between SISSINGHURST and
PEMBRY; the above REWARD, namely, FIVE HUNDRED
POUNDS, will be paid to such person, or persons
who shall give such INFORMATION as shall lead
to the ARREST, and APPREHENSION of the aforesaid
PETER SMITH. In the furtherance of which, is
hereunto added a just and close description of
the same—VIZ.—He is six foot tall, and a
sizable ROGUE. His hair, black, his eyes dark
and piercing. Clad, when last seen, in a worn
velveteen jacket, kneebreeches buckled at the
knees, gray worsted stockings, and patched shoes.
The coat TORN at the RIGHT shoulder. Upon his
wrists, a pair of steel HANDCUFFS. Last seen
in the vicinity of PEMBRY.
While I yet stared at this, I was conscious that the man had risen, and
now stood at my elbow; also, that in one hand his carried a short,
heavy stick. He stood very still, and with bent head, apparently
absorbed in the printed words before him, but more than once I saw his
eyes gleam in the shadow of his hat-brim, as they turned to scan me
furtively up and down. Yet he did not speak or move, and there was
something threatening, I thought, in his immobility. Wherefore I, in
turn, watched him narrowly from the corner of my eye, and thus it
chanced that our glances met.
"You seem thoughtful?" said I.
"Ah!—I be that."
"And what might you be thinking?"
"Why—since you ax me, I was thinkin' as your eye was mighty sharp and
piercin'."
"Ah!" said I; "and what more?"
"That your coat was tore at the shoulder."
"So it is," I nodded; "well?"
"You likewise wears buckled breeches, and gray worsted stockings."
"You are a very observant man!" said I.
"Though, to be sure," said he, shaking his head, "I don't see no
'andcuffs."
"That is because they are hidden under my sleeves."
"A-h-h!" said he, and I saw the stick quiver in his grip.
"As I said before, you are a very observant man!" said I, watching the
stick.
"Well, I've got eyes, and can see as much as most folk," he retorted,
and here the stick quivered again.
"Yes," I nodded; "you also possess legs, and can probably walk fast?"
"Ah!—and run, too, if need be," he added significantly.
"Then suppose you start."
"Start where?"
"Anywhere, so long as you do start."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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