Africa -- Fiction; Businessmen -- Fiction; Crime -- England -- Fiction; Criminals -- England -- Fiction
Stevens touched his greasy-peaked cap as a token of respect. "She was
down here behavin' outrageous the other day," said he. "'Let me pass,'
says she, 'and you shall have ten golden guineas.' Them's her very
words. 'Not for ten hundred golden guineas,' I answers, 'would William
Stevens, hesquire, do what he didn't ought to.'"
"Very proper, very proper indeed," said Girdlestone approvingly.
"Every man in his own station has his own duties to fulfil, and he will
be judged as he has fulfilled them, well or ill. I shall see that you
are no loser by your staunchness."
"Thank ye, guv'nor."
"She is wild and delirious, and can get about in spite of her low state
of health. It is possible that she may make some effort to get away, so
be vigilant. Good day to you."
"Good day, sir." William Stevens stood at the gate, looking pensively
after his employer; then he reseated himself upon his camp-stool, and,
lighting his pipe, resumed his meditations. "I can't make nought of
it," he muttered, scratching his head, "It do seem uncommon queer, to be
sure. The boss he says, 'She's very low,' says he, and then next minute
he says, 'She may be comin' down and tryin' to escape. 'I've seen diers
o' all shapes and sizes, but I've never seed one as went a galivantin'
about like this--at least, not among them as died a nat'ral death.
It do seem uncommon strange. Then, again, he's off telegrayphin' for a
doctor to Lunnon, when there's Doctor Corbett, o' Claxton, or Doctor
Hutton, o' Bedsworth, would come quick enough if he wanted them.
I can't make no sense of it. Why, bust my buttons!" he continued,
taking his pipe out of his mouth in a paroxysm of astonishment,
"if here hain't the dier herself!"
It was, indeed, Kate, who, learning that her guardian was gone, had come
out with some vague idea of making a last struggle for her life and
freedom. With the courage of despair, she came straight down the avenue
to the sole spot where escape seemed possible.
"Good mornin', missy," cried Stevens, as she approached. "You don't
look extra bright this mornin', but you ain't as bad as your good
guardian made me think. You don't seem to feel no difficulty in gettin'
about."
"There is nothing the matter with me," the girl answered earnestly.
"I assure you there is not. My mind is as sound as yours."
"That's what they all says," said the ex-warder with a chuckle.
"But it is so. I cannot stay in that house longer. I cannot, Mr.
Stevens, I cannot! It is haunted, and my guardian will murder me.
He means to. I read it in his eyes. He as good as tried this morning.
To die without one word to those I love--without any explanation of what
has passed--that would give a sting to death."
"Well, if this ain't outragis!" cried the one-eyed man; "perfectly
outragis! Going to murder you, says you! What's he a-goin' to do that
for?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account