Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
Yet his retreat had been none too rapid. The silence above was broken by
the creak of an opening door, the sound of excited voices, and a sudden
gleam of light, finding entrance through the open cellar-way. West
startled, crept back into a corner, every nerve alert at approaching
peril. He recognized Hobart's voice, as the fellow plunged down the steps
from the first floor out into the yard.
"To hell, of course he's here!" he stormed. "My God, man, he dived out
head first; I saw him. He'll be dead as a door nail now. Come on with
that lantern, Turner. Where in thunder is the ladder--does any one know?"
"You think he lies on the roof?"
"Why not? That's where he must have struck, ain't it, Shorty? I don't
know though; it is so steep he'd most likely roll off. Here, you, let me
take the glim. There's nothing here in these boxes. Ah, there's the
ladder; climb up, Shorty, and see if the guy is stuck anywhere on the
roof. Go on! What are you afraid of; if he's there, he's a stiff all
right, believe me."
Turner's voice, hoarse and rumbling, came back from above.
"There ain't nuthin' up here, Jim. Damn me, if I don't believe the cuss
got clean away. Gee, but he was sure a nervy guy all right."
"Nervy? Crazy, you mean. But he never took that fall without busting
something. The bird is lying about here somewhere. You make sure he ain't
up there, Shorty."
"Well, he ain't; I kin see every inch o' this roof. Perhaps he fell in
between them barrels down there."
The two evidently searched thoroughly, the rays of the lantern dancing
wildly about, while Hobart savagely cursed his companion, and reiterated
his belief that no man could ever take that plunge, and escape unhurt.
"It couldn't be done, I tell you; maybe he could crawl, but that would be
all. Why he went down head first; I saw him go out the window, and that
drop would daze a cat. Say, Shorty, maybe the stiff dropped down into
this cellar-way. Let's take a look."
The light streamed in through the narrow opening, and some one
scrambled cautiously down the rotted steps. West, drawing himself
securely back behind the protection of his barrel, saw the lantern
thrust forward, and a face behind it peering in the shadows. The fellow
did not advance into the room, but Hobart did, pressing his way roughly
past, and standing there full in the glow of light, staring about into
the dim shadows. He evidently saw nothing to arouse suspicion, for his
voice was angry with disgust.
"Not a damn sign here, Shorty. It looks like the fellow maybe did get
away. But it beats me how. There ain't no place now for us to look but
the alley."
"An' if he ain't there?"
"Then we'll hop this dump mighty sudden, I'm telling you. We'll slip out
and leave Mike to explain how he got his coco cracked. With that guy
loose, it won't be healthy for me hanging around here."
"He ain't got the goods on you, has he?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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