Adventure stories; French -- England -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Love stories
They made their way stealthily but quickly across the leads to the
dormer-window of the mercer’s shop, where they saw Trice beckoning.
With a last backward glance they stole into the room. Its inmate was
sitting upright in bed. Quinn was binding and gagging him with a
kerchief and a sheet. They shut the window and took the key from the
door, and passing into the hallway, locked their man in his room. It
was none too soon, for a sound of shouts above announced that their
escape was discovered. Upon this Cornbury threw discretion to the
winds, and with drawn sword went down the stairs three steps at a
time. The rickety stairs swayed and groaned under this noisy invasion,
doors opened, and nightcapped heads with frightened faces peered from
narrow doorways. There was a lantern burning in a sconce upon the wall.
This Mornay seized as he passed. At the head of the first flight the
mercer came out. But Cornbury stuck him in the leg with the point of
his sword, and, seizing him by the back of the neck, pushed and dragged
him down the stairs.
“The way out, ye vermin!” he said. “Quick! No. Not the front--the back
door.”
The man was sallow with terror.
“The b-back door?” he chattered. “There is no back door.”
“A window, then,” jerked out Cornbury. “Quick!” There was a warning
prod of the sword. The man cried out, but staggered through the
mercer’s shop into a passage. Mornay and Cornbury thrust ahead of him.
“Which way?” they cried, in unison.
He indicated a window. When it was opened they saw it was not six feet
from the ground.
By this time the whole neighborhood was aroused, and cries and shouts
resounded in all quarters. Mornay had put the light out, and, pausing
not a moment, stepped over the sill and let himself down into a kind
of roofed alley or court which ran between the rear portions of the
buildings. While Mornay covered the landlord to keep him silent,
Cornbury and the others quickly followed. Without waiting a moment, the
four men gathered themselves into a compact body and dashed down the
alley as fast as they could run. It was a case now for speed and stout
blows. There was a turn in the alley before it reached the street. It
was on rounding this that they came full into the midst of a party of
men who were running in to meet them. The surprise was mutual. All the
commotion had been on the roof and in the main street, and there was
so much noise that the constables had not even heard the footfalls
around the corner. But Mornay’s men had the advantage of being on the
offensive. There was a hurried discharge of firearms, and a shout broke
from Bill Quinn, but he kept on running. Cornbury fired his pistol at
one man and then threw the weapon full at another who cut at him with a
pike. In a moment they were through and in the street. A scattering of
shots sent the dust and stones flying from a wall beside them, but the
moon was gone and aim was uncertain. The shouting had increased and the
sound of footfalls was just behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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