It was his only chance. Before she could recover her balance he was
out of the gate and away in the fog. A lane ran past the yard. He was
in it before the whip could reach him again; in it and running for his
life.
The lane was short, straight and very narrow, with high walls on both
sides. A turn to the right led through a small entry into a by-street
which gave access to one of the main thoroughfares of the city. A turn
to the left ended in a blank wall which formed a blind alley.
By the time the boy was halfway down the lane, he realized that in his
mad terror he had turned to the left instead of to the right. There
was no escape. He was in a trap.
A moment he hesitated, sick with fear. He could hear the heavy
footfalls of his pursuer; as she plowed through the fog he could hear
her wheezy grunts and alcoholic curses.
"Took the wrong turnin', eh?" She was within ten yards. "Hold on a
minute, that's all, young man!"
In sheer desperation the boy ran on again, well knowing he could not
get beyond the wall at the bottom of the lane. He could see it
already. A lamp was there, faintly revealing its grim outline with fog
around it.
"I'll do ye in, by God, I will!"
The voice was so near that his knees began to fail. Overcome with
terror he threw himself on the ground near the wall. He had neither
the strength nor the courage to try again the trick that had saved him
a minute ago.
He knew she was standing under the lamp, he knew she was looking for
him.
"Ah, Enery, I see yer," she said, with a savage laugh.
Content to know there was no escape for him she paused to get her
breath.
The boy began to wriggle along under the lea of the wall, while she
stood watching him. The wall was old, and all at once he made a
discovery. Close to his head was a small hole, where three or four
bricks had fallen out. It was a mere black space, leading he knew not
where. But he didn't hesitate. Hardly knowing what he did, he
squeezed his head through the hole. And then with the frenzied
desperation of a rat in a trap he dragged his body after it.
An oath came from the woman under the lamp, a short ten yards off. She
sprang at the wall. She lashed at it again and again, cursing
horribly. But it was no use. Her prey had escaped with one savage cut
across the heels. She continued to lash at the hole, but the boy was
out of her reach.
II
Where was he? He didn't know. Half dead with fear he could hear her
lashing at the wall, but she wouldn't be able to get at him.
With a great effort he rose from his hands and knees. He had hardly
strength to stand up. He seemed to be in a sort of garden. There was
mold under his feet. It was too dark to see it, but he knew by the
smell; also it was damp and sticky. He moved a few yards and his feet
became entangled among roots and bushes. And then suddenly a dog began
to bark and his heart stood still.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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