A GAME OF "HIDE-AND-SEEK."
PASSING out of Jack's sight, Gus found himself in a dimly lighted
corridor, on to which several rooms opened. It was a relief to get away
from Jack; but yet Gus felt his position to be embarrassing in the
extreme. Here he was in Miss Edith's home, where he had no right to be,
and for a purpose the very thought of which made him tingle all over
with shame.
But Lucas had made a grand mistake in supposing that Gus was to be
driven by bribe or threat to take part in a burglary. He would rather
have died than have laid his hand on any of Miss Edith's possessions.
"He may kill me if he likes," Gus said to himself, though not without a
shiver at the thought, "but he shall not make me steal."
At the moment Gus was creeping cautiously along the corridor, moved
by a desire to get as far from Jack as possible. Suddenly he resolved
that he would not go back to the men who awaited him outside. He would
look about him for some hole or corner in which he could hide till the
morning. Lucas could not force him to come out; he could not make his
way into the house in search of him. The criminal object which had
brought Lucas and his son to the house gave Gus an advantage over them.
It would be easy, Gus thought, to tell Miss Edith all in the morning,
and ask her to protect him from the rage of Lucas and his son.
Perfect stillness reigned in the house as Gus cautiously stepped along
the passage, his shoeless feet making no sound on the thick carpet.
He came to a door which stood partly open, and peeping round it saw a
large and comfortably furnished bedroom, lighted by the glow from a
bright fire. The gleam shone on the dressing-table, with its handsome
toilet mirror, dainty drapery and ornaments, and Gus saw there a gold
watch hanging on a pretty stand.
"Ah, Lucas would like that," he said to himself, and passed on smiling.
But in vain he looked about for some place in which he could hide.
Oh for some cupboard or recess in which he could lie safely till the
morning!
He had reached the end of the corridor, and stood at the head of the
stairs. To the right a narrow passage turned off. It was almost in
darkness, and Gus stole along it, hoping to find the shelter he sought.
Presently he became aware that he was close to the head of a narrow
staircase; a light flashed in his face, and he saw a portly female
form, bearing a lighted candle, slowly ascending.
Gus started off in the darkness, fell over a pail, and made a clatter
which caused the woman to scream in alarm, dashed through the first
open doorway, and found himself in a small bedroom. There was no
place to hide, nor any way of escape save through the window. It was
unhasped, and Gus threw it up in a moment. In the dim light he could
see some kind of platform below, and he sprang out. He jumped on to the
thin and rather rotten planks which covered the top of a cistern. They
gave way with him, and with a faint cry Gus fell through into the cold
water. Happily the cistern was only half full, and in a few moments he
had scrambled out again. But crouching behind the cistern on the narrow
sloping roof, he found himself in considerable peril.
The woman he had startled had been too frightened to follow him; but
now she threw up the landing window, and screamed lustily for help.
"'Elp, 'elp! Thieves! Murder 'elp!" she screamed; and then Gus heard
the sound of steps hurrying to her assistance.
"Oh, cook! What is it? Whatever is the matter?" cried a voice, which
Gus recognised as Miss Edith's.
"Cook, cook, control yourself; it is absurd to give way like this! I
insist upon knowing what has happened!" said some one, uttering the
words in very shaky accents.
"It's burglars, mum; it's 'ouse-breakers!" sobbed the cook. "I see'd
'em, miss, as true as I'm a-standin 'ere—leastways I 'eard 'em. There
was some one rushed along the passage in front of me, and out o' that
winder. He fell into the cistern, he did, and he's just got out. I
'card 'im a-shakin' 'isself not a minute agone."
"Burglars! Good gracious! And we without a man in the house! Oh, Edith!
What will become of us? I said it was wrong of the colonel to leave
us so unprotected. Some one must fetch a policeman; the house must be
searched. Martha, you must fetch a policeman."
"That's easier said than done, if you'll excuse me, ma'am," said
Martha, evidently shrinking from the task. "For my part, I don't
believe there's been no man here. I don't suppose cook saw anything
bigger than a cat. She's so nervous, she's frightened at her own
shadow, cook is."
"A cat! Are you a cat?" returned the cook, indignantly. "I tell you it
was a full-grown man as comed along the passage. He fell over the pail,
and I 'eard 'im swear, I did. He's down there now somewhere, I'll be
bound. You get a lantern and see."
"No, thank you," said Martha, drawing back; "I am not going on to that
roof, if I know it. I won't risk my neck for the sake of any burglar."
"Perhaps it was a stray cat," said Edith, catching at the suggestion.
"I daresay Mary left her window open, and so it got in. A cat can
startle one dreadfully, and things seem so much larger when you cannot
see them properly."
"The house must be searched," said her aunt solemnly. "I cannot close
my eyes to-night till I know every corner of the house and grounds has
been searched. I am not nervous, as you know; but this is a serious
matter. I insist upon some one's fetching a policeman."
"As sure as I'm a livin' woman, it was no cat," muttered cook under her
breath.
"I suppose I had better go in search of a policeman," said Edith. "I
can see Martha is not inclined to do so, and cook is far too upset."
"You, Edith! You must not go; I cannot have you leave me! Suppose the
man should appear when I was alone!"
"Why, then, auntie, you would be equal to the occasion, no doubt."
"Had we not better ring the alarm bell?" suggested Martha. "Mr.
Thornton's valet, which is a very civil young man, would be sure to
come across to know what was the matter."
"I have no doubt he would," said Edith, who was aware that the young
man in question was enamoured of Martha.
Miss Durrant, who of late had exercised much ingenuity in devising
means of preventing Martha from seeing Mr. Thornton's valet, now caught
eagerly at the maid's suggestion.
Martha accordingly hurried off to ring the bell, and the others drew
back from the raw, cold atmosphere of the night, cook finally closing
the windows, lest the burglar should be disposed to return.
Shaking with cold and fear, Gus could hardly keep himself from falling
from the roof. What should he do? He must get away somehow—but how?
Crouching low, and supporting himself on his hands, he looked over the
edge of the gutter. Immediately below was a small square window. Having
first wrung all the water he could from his ragged clothes, and shaken
himself thoroughly, Gus tightly clutched the gutter and swung himself
off the roof, and after hanging perilously for a moment or two, managed
to get his feet planted on the narrow window-sill below. Happily the
window was open an inch or two at the bottom. Steadying himself against
the wall with one hand, Gus, in extreme peril of falling headlong,
pushed up the lower window-sash with the other.
The next moment, feet foremost, he fell rather than climbed through the
window. A roll of carpet broke his fall, and gathering himself up, he
found he was in a small room full of boxes and other lumber. He made
some noise as he tumbled over these on his way to the door, but the
sound was lost in the clamour of the alarm bell, which Martha was now
pulling lustily.
Gus was at a loss what to do. If the house were immediately searched,
there was little hope that he could escape detection, and though he had
previously thought it would be easy to tell everything to Miss Edith,
he had now a horror of being dragged forth before all the household,
and branded as a young housebreaker. If only he could find his way back
to the bath-room window, and descend by the ladder!
Opening the door of the lumber-room as gently as possible, he stole
into the passage. There was no one about, for Miss Durrant had
forbidden any one to go through the house at present, and she and Edith
had returned to the dining-room. Cook was keeping watch at her bedroom
window, and Martha was at the top of the attic stairs pulling the bell.
Swiftly and noiselessly the boy glided along the passage, ascended a
short flight of stairs, and found himself again in the corridor where
was the bath-room. But though the window stood open, the ladder was
gone. Gus leaned out, but could see nothing in the darkness. He knew
that the window was too high above the ground for him to venture a leap.
Clearly, Lucas and his son had decamped and left him to his fate. Gus
closed the window, and turned away in despair. What should he do?
Just then the sudden opening of a door, a blast of cold air through
the house, and the sound of excited voices below, assured Gus that Mr.
Thornton's valet had arrived, and was receiving a warm welcome from the
unprotected females. No time was to be lost. Gus fled desperately along
the corridor.
The warm glow from the fire-lit bedroom seemed to invite him. Wet and
shivering, Gus ran instinctively to the glowing hearth, and for a few
moments forgot his embarrassing position in the delight of warming
himself. Then he became aware of steps and voices on the stairs. A
procession was approaching armed with fireirons, and headed by Mr.
Thornton's valet, flourishing the kitchen poker.
[Illustration]
"I must beg you to search thoroughly every room," Miss Durrant was
saying. "It is not that I am nervous, but I think it only right to
satisfy ourselves that there is no man concealed upon the premises."
"To be sure, ma'am, to be sure," the valet replied. "I only wish I
could ketch the man; but I'm afraid he's had time to get away."
Gus could not see the fierce manner in which the valet brandished
his weapon as he spoke; but the words were enough. With a hare-like
instinct, the boy rushed for the nearest covert. Between him and the
door was the bed. Curtains hung at the head, the sheet was folded back,
the large downy pillows, with frilled edges, were invitingly exposed.
Straight at the bed dashed Gus.
As he slipped behind the curtain, his quick eyes saw an aperture at the
back of the pillows which seemed to offer him a hiding-place. Quick
as thought, he sprang up, and wriggled himself along till he lay, as
small as possible, between the bolster and the wooden board at the head
of the bedstead. Had he not been very thin and slight, he could not
have worked himself into such a position without disarranging the bed.
But with such eel-like dexterity did he move that when, a few minutes
later, the armed force entered the room, the bed looked pretty much as
the housemaid had left it before she went out.
The valet, poker in hand, advanced into the room, followed by Martha,
who carried the tongs. Then came Miss Durrant, who had armed herself
with a finely polished brass poker, one of the ornamental kind which
rarely see actual service; next was cook, and Edith brought up the
rear, because no one else was willing to come last, there being a
general impression that if the burglar were passed by the van-guard, he
would be likely to fall upon the rear.
The valet courageously looked under the bed and under the skirt of the
dressing-table. At Miss Durrant's suggestion, he opened her wardrobe,
and passed his hand through the dresses that hung there. Emboldened by
his example, cook passed her hand cautiously over the surface of the
feather-bed, but did not think of looking behind the pillows, though
it did occur to her to look in the coal-box, which could not have
sheltered a "Tom Thumb" of burglars.
"I can't help thinking it was nothing but an old cat," remarked Martha,
keeping, in spite of this assertion, close to the side of their gallant
protector.
"You think it a cat, do you?" replied cook, with a snort. "Well, all I
can say is, I never knew before that you was so mighty afraid of cats.
One would think you was a mouse."
The resources of Miss Durrant's room seeming to be exhausted, the band
passed on to the next. Gus, who had hardly dared to breathe whilst they
were in the room, drew a long sigh of relief as he heard them passing
up the corridor.
Tramp, tramp, tramp went the procession, now in the servants' rooms,
now in the attic, finally descending again to the lower regions. The
valet, who had got out on the roof and examined the cistern, was
certain that some living creature had fallen into it; but the splashes
on the slates and the shattered plank gave no conclusive evidence as
to the size and nature of the intruder. He readily adopted the idea
suggested by Martha, and amused himself with twitting the cook with
having mistaken a cat for a man.
The policeman, who arrived late at the scene of excitement, leaned
towards the same opinion; and though he went round the grounds with his
bull's-eye, failed to discover the ladder hidden amongst the shrubs, or
to see any traces of the burglars.
Martha's explanation was accepted by every one save the cook. Miss
Durrant even went so far as to say she was certain it was a cat, and
that if cook had only exercised proper self-control the house and
neighbourhood need not have been alarmed. She repudiated the idea of
being nervous herself, but was, nevertheless, very restless and fidgety
during the remainder of the evening.
As the commotion in the house gradually died away, Gus no longer
listened intently to every sound. Drowsiness crept over him as he lay
warm and snug behind the pillows. At last, notwithstanding every cause
for uneasiness, he fell fast asleep.