Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
Medical aid being here afforded to the sufferer, he was soon brought so
far round as to be able to give some account of himself, and of the
misfortune which had befallen him. His face, too, having been cleared of
the blood by which it was disguised, he was recognised by several
persons in the office; and being known to be a respectable man, the
wonder was greatly increased to see him in so lamentable a condition.
Mr. Thomson's account, however, of the occurrences of the night
explained all.
He stated that, on returning home to his own house, in which there was
no one living at present but himself, he was encountered by some one in
the passage, and knocked down the instant he entered the door. Who or
what the person was he could not tell, but he had no doubt that it was
some one who had entered the house for the purpose of robbing it; and
added his belief that the house was filled with robbers, who, he had no
doubt, had plundered it of every portable article worth carrying away.
How he came to be found on the stair he could not tell, but supposed
that he had been dragged there after he had been knocked down--that
proceeding having deprived him of all consciousness.
Here ended Mr. Thomson's deposition; and great was the sensation, great
the commotion which it excited in the police office. So daring a
burglary--so daring an assault. The like had not been heard of for
years. In a twinkling, eight or ten men were mustered, lanterned, and
bludgeoned; and, headed by a sergeant, were on their march to the scene
of robbery.
On arriving at Mr. Thomson's door, they found it fast, and all quiet
within. What was to be done? Force open the door? Perhaps some of the
villains were still in the house. At any rate, it was proper to see what
state things were in.
A smith was accordingly sent for, the lock picked, and the door thrown
open, when, headed by the sergeant with a pistol in his hand, in rushed
a mob of policemen, a constellation of lanterns, a forest of bludgeons.
The guardians of the night now dispersed themselves over the house; but,
to their great surprise, found no trace whatever of the thieves. There
appeared to have been nothing disturbed, and the doors and windows
remained all fast.
Puzzled by these circumstances, the police had begun to abate somewhat
of that zeal with which they had first commenced their search, and were
standing together in knots, some in one room and some in another,
discussing the probabilities and likelihoods of the case, when those in
the doctor's apartment were suddenly startled by a loud snore or grunt,
proceeding from the bed, which was followed by a restless movement, and
the exclamation--"Thieves, robbers!" muttered in the thick indistinct
way of a person dreaming.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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