Time went on at its customary pace, and Uncle Richard had business in
London again, where he was detained for some time.
At last there came a letter saying that he would not be back yet, but
that he hoped Tom would complete a perfect plane mirror before his
return, as he still thought they might do better, and get a truer image
of the faint stars; so, forgetting all about Pete Warboys and his dog,
Tom worked away as busily as if his uncle were at his elbow.
Then came another letter delaying the return; and in a postscript Uncle
Richard wrote that he had called at Gray's Inn, and seen Sam, who said
that his father was now nearly well.
"I shall be very, very glad when Uncle Richard gets back again," said
Tom that night when he went to his bedroom, and then he began thinking
about Pete. He got no further with him, but whenever he saw the dog,
the animal always barked and wagged his tail.
"Dog's easier than boy," thought Tom. "Well, I can't help it; I tried
to be friends, and I fancied he meant to be now; but I suppose he can't
forgive me for the beating. Still, he doesn't shout after me now. How
I do long to get on again with telescope work!"
The thought of this made him go to the window, pull up the blind, and
throw the casement wide.
He listened for a few moments as he gazed over the dark garden, and then
laughed softly, for there was no likelihood, he thought, of any one
coming after the apples; then kneeling down so that he could rest his
arms upon the window-sill, and gaze out at the intensely black sky,
which was now ablaze with stars shining out with wondrous clearness.
Constellation after constellation glittered above his head, with many a
great star which he had now learned to know. There was Vega brilliant
in the extreme. There too was Altair. The bull's-eye shone out of a
deep golden hue; and below it, and more to the south, he made out Sirius
glittering in its diamond lustre.
"That's Jupiter too," said Tom to himself; and as his eyes swept on, he
could see Venus low-down in the south-west, just passing out of sight.
Gazing on, with his eyes sweeping along the west, he passed Cygnus, with
its great triangle, mighty Arcturus, and--
"What's that?"
Tom's question to himself was put not concerning a bright star or
planet, but apropos of a noise which came from the direction of the
mill.
He listened intently, with his heart beginning to throb, for there was a
faint noise as of a step on gravel, and then a faint whispering.
Tom's heart ceased throbbing for a few moments, and then went on again
in a way which felt suffocating, as he felt convinced that there was
some one in the mill-yard.
He listened for a minute, and then went softly down-stairs to get the
keys of the observatory, and go out. But as he took them from the nail
in the little hall, he felt that if he opened the door, the shooting of
the bolts would alarm Mrs Fidler and the maids, so he stole back to his
room, closed the door, listened again at his window, and became sure
that some one was in the mill-yard.
"It's Pete Warboys," he said to himself as he listened. "What mischief
is he after now?"
It was too dark to make out anything with his eyes; but his ears
maintained that something was going on, and a sudden chill of horror and
dismay ran through Tom.
"He's going to smash the new speculum out of spite for the thrashing he
got," muttered Tom; and nerved now by his indignant excitement, he let
himself down from the window, and began to cross the garden without a
sound, thinking as he went of the position.
"He couldn't get in at the door," he said, "without a strong crow-bar,
and the windows are now all strongly fastened. Perhaps after all it's a
mistake."
But all the same there was a feeling troubling Tom which made him
determined to thoroughly make sure that no midnight marauder was about,
bent upon destroying the piece of optical work which had been made with
so much care.
He crept out silently, and across the lane, raised the key to open the
yard gate, but replaced it in his pocket, walked a few yards, and, with
the intention of not alarming the visitor, softly began to scale the
wall, and did the very thing he wished to avoid, for as he passed over
the wall on one side of the mill, a dark figure passed over it on the
other side, with the difference that as Tom went in the figure went out,
and stood peeping over.
Stooping low Tom crept up to the doorway and found it fast, tried one
window, the one that had been before opened, and found it quite right.
Then going round to the back, he found the other window was in the same
condition.
"Nothing wrong," he said to himself, as he went on silently round the
mill, looking upwards at the first storey windows, and then he came to a
sudden stoppage, having struck against something in his way, and pretty
well invisible in the darkness.
Then Tom's heart began to beat again heavily, for his hands, which flew
up, were resting upon one side of a long, slight, fruit-gathering
ladder--one of those which sprawl out widely at the foot, and run up
very narrow at the top, a form which makes them safe from tilting
sidewise, and so balanced that they are easy to carry about from place
to place.
Tom knew the ladder by the shape: it was the one David borrowed from the
next neighbour, against whose long cow-house it always hung on two great
pegs, sheltered from the rain by the thick far-projecting thatch.
And now this ladder had been reared up against the mill, and though the
top rounds could only be dimly-seen, there they were resting up against
the rails of the little gallery, close to the shutter which opened into
the roof of the observatory.
"It's Pete," Tom said to himself, as he stood listening, but only to
hear the beating of his own heart. Then he took three or four steps up
very softly, but stopped short, for all at once there was a gleam of
light in the panes of the laboratory window, such as would be produced
by any one striking a wax-match.
Tom stepped down again, stood looking up a few moments watching the
feeble light, which was little more than would have been produced by the
gleaming of the stars, and then an idea occurred to him.
Getting behind the ladder he gave it a push, and it rose upright
directly, and he found that he had no difficulty in managing it.
Working it to and fro he walked its legs close up to the brick wall, and
then placing his hands upon the rounds, lowered it step by step till it
lay flat in the yard.
"No running away this time," muttered Tom; and he crept back to the
entrance, which he opened softly with the key, entered the workshop, and
then closed the door and locked it on the inside, afterwards placing the
keys in his pocket, but took them out again, for he remembered, what he
had forgotten in his excitement, that since the laboratory had been
furnished, it too had been kept locked, so that to get into the chamber
where he had seen the gleam of light, he would have to unfasten the door
at the top of the flight of steps.
For a brief moment the boy felt nervous, then he was himself again.
"Pete will be in a horrible fright," he thought; and, creeping up, he
softly inserted the key, unlocked this door, and withdrew the key
without a sound. Then slowly and silently he pressed down the
thumb-latch, the door yielded with a faint creak, and he passed in, to
stand listening and looking round.
All was still and very dark, save that he could just make out the shape
of the window, and if any one had passed the panes he might have been
visible as a black shadow.
For an instant Tom wondered whether he could have been deceived, but the
next he knew it was impossible. The light might have been fancy, or a
reflection, but there was none about that ladder.
Then his heart seemed to jump into his mouth, for there was a sound
overhead. Some one had evidently gone to the opening, stepped into the
little gallery, felt for the ladder, found it gone, and concluding that
the movable top had swung round, was now hurriedly spinning the wheel
and causing the whole of the light wooden dome to revolve.
"Caught," cried Tom beneath his breath; and, reckless of consequences,
he crossed the laboratory, ascended the steps, and dashed across to
where the iron wheel was pivoted to the wall.
"It's no good," he shouted. "Give up!" and he caught some one by the
shoulder; but before he could get a good grip he received a tremendous
buffet in the chest, which sent him staggering backward, and ere he
could recover himself his adversary had made for the trap-door, and
begun to descend as if quite at home in the place.
Tom made after him, but in the darkness he bore too much to his right,
and as he corrected his course by touch, he only bent down to descend in
time to feel the trap-door brush by him, and fall with a bang, which
forced from him a cry, mingled with the shooting of the bolt.
Fortunately as well as unfortunately, the trap-door fell upon Tom's
foot, which was half over the opening, and the bolt shot into vacancy,
so that the next minute the boy had dragged it up, descended two or
three steps, holding on by the edge of the floor, and then swung himself
forward and dropped into the chamber below.
"You stop, or it'll be the worse for you," he shouted fiercely, for the
pain in his foot had roused him into a fit of passion which drove away
everything but the desire to get a good grip of Pete.
There was no reply, no sound, and Tom felt that the scoundrel must be
close at hand stooping behind one of the tables or crouching against the
wall.
"It's of no use," cried Tom fiercely. "You're caught like a rat in a
cage. Do you hear, sir? Give in!"
_Creak_, _creak_! just as Tom was craning his head forward.
The sound came from below, and with a muttered ejaculation, full of
vexation, the boy darted to the head of the steps, and rushed down in
the darkness at a break-neck speed, which ended in a big jump on to the
stone-floor, from whence he rushed toward the window which made that
noise when any one tried to open it--a difficult task with the new hasps
to any one who did not understand them.
There was no one by the window, but no doubt about the presence of
another in the stone-floored place, for the footsteps had sounded, and
as Tom stood ready to spring he could detect a low panting noise.
"Now then!" he cried; "you hear what I say--give up at once."
There was no reply, and Tom tried to pierce the darkness, and then made
a sudden rush in the direction where he thought the visitor must be.
He was not right, but his action betrayed where the fellow was, for he
rushed across the place, and sent a thrill through Tom's breast.
And now a desperate game at blind-man's-buff commenced, in which he
moved cautiously here and there, with his clenched fists extended ready
to strike or ward off a blow, which was certain to be aimed at him if he
tried to seize the too active enemy.
And as he moved here and there in the cold dark place, he realised how
easily one trying to escape could avoid a would-be captor by keeping
very still and away from the windows, or by ducking down when passing
them. Twice over he touched an arm, once a head, but their owner
bounded away with a faint ejaculation at each touch, and the hunt went
on round and round the place, till both stopped, listening for the
other's next movements.
There was a long period of painful silence.
"He's close to the door," thought Tom at last, for he fancied that the
breathing came from there; and moving slowly and almost imperceptibly,
he glided nearer, holding himself ready to make a spring at the
slightest sound. In this fashion he had half covered the workshop
toward the door, and was in the act of bounding forward the rest of the
way, when he heard a sound behind him, and the next moment the enemy was
rushing up the steps to reach the laboratory again.
"Better than creeping about here in the dark," thought Tom, as he too
rushed for the steps and began to ascend, to have the door banged in his
face, and by the time he had reached it and got through, his quarry was
at the top of the next flight of steps, and had banged down the
trap-door.
Tom was up directly, though, threw the trap over, and sprang panting
into the observatory, to stand in the darkness here too, listening and
trying to make out where his quarry was lying in wait; and heedless of
danger, he did not stop to take a necessary precaution.
Then there came a loud scraping noise from outside, and Tom sprang
towards the open shutter, convinced that his quarry had climbed out into
the tiny gallery; but at the same moment he came heavily in contact with
some one, and was taken so unexpectedly, that at the end of a brief
struggle here and there upon the floor Tom uttered a cry, for he stepped
suddenly down over the edge of the trap-way, completely losing his
balance as his foot was checked on a stair eighteen inches below, and he
fell heavily, bumping down all of a heap to the lower floor, where he
lay half-stunned, listening to the banging down of the trap once more,
and feeling stupid and confused as he gathered himself up, and again
ascended the steps, to thrust open the door with hands and head.
This time as he passed through he closed the trap after him, and stood
dizzy and panting, knowing that he was hurt, but unable to tell how
much.
A sound that he heard cleared his head the next moment, for it sent a
thrill of excitement through him which told him he could not be very
bad, and he stepped quickly to the open shutter and began to get
through.
For the sound he heard was the rap of the top of the ladder against the
little gallery rails; and as he crept out and into the little wooden
construction, he felt for and touched the end of the ladder, which was
quivering as if some one was going down.
There was no dizziness in Tom's brain now. The enemy was just below and
escaping.
Passing one leg over the rail, Tom planted a foot safely as he held on,
then the other, and began to descend as rapidly as he could, feeling the
ladder quiver more and more, and then hearing as he was half-way down a
whisper. Then he felt a jerk, one side of the slight implement was
wrenched over sidewise, and the top glided from the gallery. The next
moment he was falling as he clung, and before he had time to think, he
and the ladder came to the ground with a crash.