FLIGHT
The half-expected had happened; bag and baggage had led his pursuers
hither; the fellow could now go back and report. After his bath, before
lying down, John Steele had partly dressed in the garments laid out for
him; now he threw the dressing-gown from his shoulders and hastily put
on the rest of his clothes. He felt now only the need for action--to do
what? Impatience was capped by the realization of his own impotence;
Rosemary Villa was, no doubt, at that very moment, subjected to a close
espionage. He heard the man-servant in the garden, and unable to
restrain a growing restlessness to know the worst, Steele mounted the
stairs to the attic.
From the high window there he could see, around a curve in the Row, a
loitering figure; in the other direction a neighboring house concealed
the byway, but he could reasonably conclude that some one also sauntered
there, sentinel at that end of the street. Quickly coming down to the
second story, he began cautiously to examine from the windows the
situation of the house, in relation to adjoining grounds and neighboring
dwellings.
To the right, the top of the high wall shone with the customary broken
bits of glass; the rear defenses glistened also in formidable fashion.
He noted, however, several places where this safeguard against unwonted
invasion showed signs of deterioration; in one or two spots the jagged
fragments had been broken, or had fallen off. These slight breaks in the
continuity of irregular, menacing glass bits, he fixed in mind by a
certain shrub or tree. Against the rear wall, which was of considerable
height, leaned his neighbor's low conservatory, almost spanning it from
side to side.
"Sure, sir, I don't know whether it's breakfast or supper that's waiting
for you." Captain Forsythe's man had reappeared and stood now at the top
of the landing looking in at him. "It's a sound sleep you've had."
John Steele glanced at the clock; the afternoon was waning. Why did not
his enemies force their way in, surround him at once? Unless--and this
might prove a momentary saving clause!--these people without were but an
advance guard, an outpost, awaiting orders. In this event Gillett would
hastily be sent for; would soon be on his way---
"'Tis a rasher of real Irish bacon that is awaiting your convenience,
sir."
The servant was now eying the visitor dubiously; John Steele wheeled, a
perfunctory answer on his lips, and going to the dining-room swallowed
hastily a few mouthfuls. From where he sat he could command a view of
the front gate, and kept glancing toward it when alone. To go now,--or
wait? The daylight did not favor the former course unless his pursuers
should suddenly appear before the locked gate, demanding admission.
He made up his mind as to his course then, the last desperate shift.
Amid a turmoil of thoughts a certain letter he had had in mind to send
to Captain Forsythe occurred to him, and calling for paper and pen, he
wrote there, facing the window, feverishly, hastily, several pages; then
he gave the letter to the servant for the postman, whose special call at
the iron knocker without had just sounded. The letter would have served
John Steele ill had it fallen into his enemies' hands, but once in the
care of the royal mails it would be safe. If it were, indeed, that
person at the gate, and not some one--
"One moment, Dennis!" The man paused. "Of course you will make sure it
is the postman--?"
The servant stared at this guest whose demeanor was becoming more and
more eccentric. "As if I didn't know his knock!" he said, departing.
The afternoon waned; the shadows began to fall; John Steele's pulses now
throbbed expectantly. He called for a key to the gate and moved toward
the front door; by this time the darkness had deepened, and, key in
hand, he stepped out.
At first he walked toward the front on the gravel that the servant might
hear him, but near the entrance he paused, hesitating, to look out. As
he remained thus, some one, who had been standing not far off, drew
near. This person steathily passed; in doing so he glanced around; but
John Steele felt uncertain whether the fellow had or had not been able
to distinguish him in the gloom. John Steele waited, however, until the
other moved a short distance on; then he retraced his own way quietly,
keeping to the grass, toward the house; near it he swerved and in the
same rapid manner stole around the place until he reached the back wall.
There he examined his position, felt the top, then placed his fingers on
the wall. It was about six feet high, but seizing hold, he was about to
spring into the air, when behind him, from the direction of the Row, a
low metallic sound caught his attention. The front gate to the Forsythe
house had suddenly clicked; some one had entered,--not the servant; John
Steele had seen him but a few moments before in the kitchen; some one,
then, who had quietly picked the lock, as the surest way of getting in.
John Steele looked back; even as he did so, a number of figures abruptly
ran forward from the gate. He waited no longer but drew himself up to a
level with the top of the wall. The effort made him acutely aware of his
wounded shoulder; he winced but set his teeth hard and swung himself
over until one foot came in contact with the iron frame of the
greenhouse next to the masonry. To crawl to the end of the lean-to,
bending to hold to the wall, and then to let himself down, occupied but
a brief interval.
As he stood there, trying to make out a path through shrubs and trees,
he heard behind him an imperative knocking at the front door of Captain
Forsythe's house; the expostulating tones of the serving-man; the
half-indistinct replies that were succeeded by the noise of feet
hastening into the house.
For some time nothing save these sounds was wafted to the listener; then
a loud disappointed voice, sounding above another voice, came from a
half-opened window. John Steele stood still no longer; great hazard,
almost certain capture, lay before him in the direction he was going;
the street this garden led to would be watched; but he could not remain
where he was. Already his enemies were moving about in the neighboring
grounds; soon they would flash their lights over the wall, would
discover him, unless--He moved quickly forward. As he neared the house,
more imposing than Captain Forsythe's, a stream of light poured from a
window; through this bright space he darted quickly, catching a fleeting
view of people within, several with their faces turned toward him. Close
to a side of the square-looking house, he paused, his heart beating
fast--not with fear, but with a sudden, fierce anger at the possibility
that he would be caught thus; no better than a mere--
But needs must, when the devil drives; the devil was driving him now
hard. To attempt to reach the gate, to get out to Surrey Road,--little
doubt existed as to what awaited him there; so, crouching low, he forced
himself to linger a little longer where he was. As thus he remained
motionless, sharp twinges again shot through his shoulder; then, on a
sudden, he became unmindful of physical discomfort; a plan of action
that had flashed through his brain, held him oblivious to all else; it
offered only the remotest chance of escape--but still a chance, which he
weighed, determined to take! It had come to him while listening to the
merry voices within the room near him talking of the gay dinner just
ended, of the box party at the theater that was to follow.
Already cabs were at the door; the women and the men, several of the
latter flushed with wine, were ready to go. A servant walked out and
unlocked the gate and with light badinage the company issued forth. As
they did so, John Steele, unobserved, stepped forward; in the
semi-darkness the party passed through the entrance into the street.
Taking his place among the last of the laughing, dimly-seen figures,
John Steele walked boldly on and found himself a moment later on the
sidewalk of Surrey Road. He was aware that some one, a woman, had
touched his arm, as if to take it; of a light feminine voice and an
abrupt exclamation of surprise, of the quick drawing back of fluttering
skirts. But he did not stop to apologize or to explain; walking swiftly
to one of the last cabs he sprang in.
"A little errand first, driver," he called out. "To--" and mentioned a
street--"as fast as you can." His tone was sharp, authoritative; it
implied the need for instant obedience, rang like a command. The man
straightened, touched his horse with his whip, and wheeling quickly they
dashed away.
As they did so, John Steele thought he heard exclamations behind;
looking through the cab window he saw, at the gate, the company gazing
after him, obviously not yet recovered from their thrill of surprise
following his unexpected action. He observed, also, two men on the other
side of the street who now ran across and held a brief altercation with
one of the cabmen. As they were about to enter the cab several persons
in the party apparently intervened, expostulating vigorously. It was not
difficult to surmise the resentment of the group at this attempted
summary seizure of a second one of their cabs. By the time the men had
explained their imperative need, and after further argument were
permitted to drive off, John Steele had gained a better start than he
had dared to hope. But they would soon be after him, post-haste; yes,
already they were dashing hard and furiously behind; he lifted the lid
overhead, in his hand a sovereign.
"Those men must not overtake us, cabby. Go where you will! You
understand?"
The man did; his fingers closed quickly on the generous tip and once
more he lashed his horse. For some time they continued at a rapid pace,
now skirting the confines of the park, now plunging into a puzzling
tangle of streets; but wherever they went, the other cab managed always
to keep them in sight. It even began to creep up, nearer. From his
pocket John Steele drew a weapon; his eyes gleamed ominously. The
pursuing hansom drew closer; casting a hurried glance over his shoulder,
he again called up to the driver.
"It's no use, gov'ner," came back the reply. "This 'oss 'as been out
longer than 'is."
"Then turn the first dark corner and slow up a bit,--for only a second;
afterward, go on your very best as long as you can."
Another sovereign changed hands and shortly afterward the vehicle dashed
into a side street. It appeared as likely a place as any for his
purpose; John Steele, hardly waiting for the man to draw rein, leaped
out as far as he might. He landed without mishap, heard a whip snap
furiously, and darted back into a doorway. He had just reached it when
the other cab drew near; for an instant he felt certain that he had been
seen; but the pursuers' eyes were bent eagerly ahead.
"This'll mean a fiver for you, my man," he heard one of them shout to
the driver. "We've got him, by--" A harsh, jubilant cry cut the air;
then they were gone.
John Steele did not wait; replacing the weapon in his pocket he started
quickly around the corner; his cabman could not lead them far; they
would soon return. As fast as possible, without attracting undue
attention, he retraced his way; passed in and out of tortuous
thoroughfares; by shops from whence came the smell of frying fish; down
alleys where squalor lurked. Although he had by this time, perhaps,
eluded the occupants of the cab, he knew there were others keenly alert
for his capture whom he might at any moment encounter. To his fancy
every corner teemed with peril; he did not underestimate the resources
of those who sought him or the cunning of him who was the chief among
his enemies.
Which way should he move? At that moment the city's multitudinous blocks
seemed like the many squares of an oriental checker-board; the problem
he put to himself was how to cross the city and reach the vicinity of
the river; there to make a final effort to look for--What? A hopeless
quest!
His face burned with fever; he did not heed it. A long, broad
thoroughfare, as he walked on, had suddenly unfolded itself to his gaze;
one side of this highway shone resplendent with the flaring lights of
numerous stands and stalls displaying vegetables and miscellaneous
articles. A hubbub assailed the ear, the voices of hucksters and
hawkers, vying with one another to dispose of their wares; like ants,
people thronged the sidewalk and pavement near these temporary booths.
About to turn back from this animated scene, John Steele hesitated; the
road ran straight and sure toward the destination he wished to reach,
while on either hand lay a network of devious ways. Amid these
labyrinths, even one familiar with the city's maze might go astray, and
again he glanced down the single main road, cutting squarely through all
intricacies; noted that although, on one side, the lamps and the torches
flared high, revealing every detail of merchandise, and, incidentally,
the faces of all who passed, the other side of the thoroughfare seemed
the more murky and shadowy by comparison.
He decided, crossed the street; lights gleamed in his face. He pushed
his way through the people unmolested and strode on, followed only by
the noise of passing vehicles and carts; then found himself walking on
the other side, apart from the headlong busy stream. A suspicion of mist
hung over the city; through it, people afar assumed shapes unreal; above
the jagged sky-line of housetops the heavens had taken on that sickly
hue, the high dome's jaundiced aspect for London in autumn.
On!--on! John Steele moved; on!--on!--the traffic pounded, for the most
part in the opposite direction; a vast, never-ending source of sound, it
seemed to soothe momentarily his sense of insecurity. Time passed; he
had, apparently, evaded his pursuers; he told himself he might, after
all, meet the problem confronting him; meet and conquer. It would be a
hard battle; but once in that part of the city he was striving to reach,
he might find those willing to offer him shelter--low-born, miserable
wretches he had helped. He would not disdain their succor; the end
justified the way. In their midst, if anywhere in London, was the one
man in the world who could throw a true light on the events of the past;
enable him to---
Behind him some one followed; some one who drew ever nearer, with soft,
skulking steps which now he heard--
"Mr. Steele!" Even as he wheeled, his name was called out.
* * * * *