The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century; Fiction
He was scarcely gone when I observed another and a much younger man
approaching hastily from the opposite side of the square. Considering
the season of the year and the genial mildness of the night, he was
somewhat closely muffled up; and as he came, for all his hurry, he kept
looking nervously behind him. Arrived before my door, he halted and set
one foot upon the step, as though about to enter; then, with a sudden
change, he turned and began to hurry away; halted a second time, as if
in painful indecision; and lastly, with a violent gesture, wheeled
about, returned straight to the door, and rapped upon the knocker. He
was almost immediately admitted by the first arrival.
My curiosity was now broad awake. I made myself as small as I could in
the very densest of the shadow, and waited for the sequel. Nor had I
long to wait. From the same side of the square a second young man made
his appearance, walking slowly and softly, and like the first, muffled
to the nose. Before the house he paused; looked all about him with a
swift and comprehensive glance; and seeing the square lie empty in the
moon and lamp-light, leaned far across the area railings and appeared to
listen to what was passing in the house. From the dining-room there came
the report of a champagne cork, and following upon that, the sound of
rich and manly laughter. The listener took heart of grace, produced a
key, unlocked the area gate, shut it noiselessly behind him, and
descended the stair. Just when his head had reached the level of the
pavement, he turned half round and once more raked the square with a
suspicious eyeshot. The mufflings had fallen lower round his neck; the
moon shone full upon him; and I was startled to observe the pallor and
passionate agitation of his face.
I could remain no longer passive. Persuaded that something deadly was
afoot, I crossed the roadway and drew near the area railings. There was
no one below; the man must therefore have entered the house, with what
purpose I dreaded to imagine. I have at no part of my career lacked
courage; and now, finding the area gate was merely laid-to, I pushed it
gently open and descended the stairs. The kitchen door of the house,
like the area gate, was closed but not fastened. It flashed upon me
that the criminal was thus preparing his escape; and the thought, as it
confirmed the worst of my suspicions, lent me new resolve. I entered the
house; and being now quite reckless of my life, I shut and locked the
door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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