England -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Runaway children -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
I had seen by a clock a short time before that it was nearly ten, and my
legs ached so that I could scarcely stand; and yet, in the midst of the
busy throng of people hurrying here and there, I alone seemed to be
without friend or home.
I had been wandering about in a purposeless way for a long time, trying
to see some one who would win my confidence enough to make me ask where
I could obtain a night's lodging, when I suddenly became aware that a
big lad with a long narrow face and little eyes seemed to be watching
me, and I saw what seemed to me so marked a resemblance to the young
scoundrel who had stolen my bundle, that I instinctively grasped it more
tightly and hurried away.
On glancing back, I found that the boy was following, and this alarmed
me so that I hastened back into the big street, walked along some
distance, then turned and ran as hard as I could up one street and down
another, till at last I was obliged to stop and listen to make sure
whether I was pursued.
To my horror I heard advancing steps, and I had just time to shrink back
into a doorway before, by the dim light of the gas, I saw the lad I
sought to avoid run by, and as soon as his heavy boots had ceased to
echo, I crept out and ran in the other direction, till, completely worn
out, I sat down upon a doorstep in a deserted street, and at last
dropped off fast asleep.
I was startled into wakefulness by a strange glare shining in my face,
and, looking up, there was a round glowing eye of light seeming to
search me through and through.
For a few moments I could do nothing but stare helplessly and then
started nervously as a gruff voice exclaimed--"Here; what's in that
bundle?"
"My clothes and clean shirt, sir," I faltered. "Let's look."
My hands shook so that I was some time before I could get the
handkerchief undone; but in the meantime I had been able to make out
that the speaker was a policeman, and in my confusion at being awakened
out of a deep sleep, I associated his coming with instructions from Mr
Blakeford.
At last, though, I laid my bundle open on the step, and my questioner
seemed satisfied.
"Tie it up," he said, and I hastened to obey. "Now, then, young
fellow," he continued, "how is it you are sitting here asleep? Why
don't you go home?"
"Please, sir, I came up from the country to-day, and I ran away from a
boy who wanted to steal my bundle, and then I sat down and fell asleep."
"That's a likely story," he said, making the light of the lantern play
upon my face. "Where were you going?"
"I don't know, sir. Yes I do--to Mr Rowle."
"And where's Mr Rowle's?"
"It's--it's--stop a minute, sir. I've got the address written down.
It's at a great printing-office."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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