CHAPTER VI
The next afternoon Wogan came to the town of Ulm.
"Gaydon," he said to himself as he watched its towers and the smokecurling upwards from its chimneys, "would go no further to-day with thisletter in his pocket. Gaydon--the cautious Gaydon--would sleep in thistown and in its most populous quarter. Gaydon would put up at thebusiest inn. Charles Wogan will follow Gaydon's example."
Wogan rode slowly through the narrow streets of gabled houses until hecame to the market square. The square was frequented; its great fountainwas playing; citizens were taking the air with their wives and children;the chief highway of the town ran through it; on one side stood thefrescoed Rathhaus, and opposite to it there was a spacious inn. Wogandrew up at the doorway and saw that the hall was encumbered withbaggage. "Gaydon would stop here," said he, and he dismounted. Theporter came forward and took his horse.
"I need a room," said Wogan, and he entered the house. There were peoplegoing up and down the stairs. While he was unstrapping his valise in hisbedroom, a servant with an apron about his waist knocked at the doorand inquired whether he could help him.
"No," said Wogan; and he thought with more confidence than ever, "here,to be sure, is where Gaydon would sleep."
He supped at the ordinary in the company of linen merchants andtravellers, and quite recovered his spirits. He smoked a pipe of tobaccoon a bench under the trees of the square, and giving an order that heshould be called at five went up to his bedroom.
There was a key in the lock of the door, which Wogan turned; he alsotilted a chair and wedged the handle. He opened the window and lookedout. His room was on the first floor and not very high from the ground.A man might possibly climb through the window. Gaydon would assuredlyclose the shutters and the window, so that no one could force anentrance without noise. Wogan accordingly did what Gaydon wouldassuredly have done, and when he blew out his candle found himself inconsequence in utter darkness. No glimmer of light was anywhere visible.He had his habits like another, and one of them was to sleep withoutblinds or curtains drawn. His present deflection from this habit madehim restless; he was tired, he wished above all things to sleep, butsleep would not come. He turned from one side to the other, he punchedhis pillows, he tried to sleep with his head low, and when that failedwith his head high.
He resigned himself in the end to a sleepless night, and lying in hisbed drew some comfort from the sound of voices and the tread of feet inthe passages and the rooms about him. These, at all events, werecompanionable, and they assured him of safety. But in a while theyceased, and he was left in a silence as absolute as the darkness. Heendured this silence for perhaps half an hour, and then all manner ofinfinitesimal sounds began to stir about him. The lightest of footstepsmoved about his bed, faint sighs breathed from very close at hand, evenhis name was softly whispered. He sat suddenly up in his bed, and atonce all these sounds became explained to him. They came from the streetand the square outside the window. So long as he sat up they wereremote, but the moment he lay down again they peopled the room.
"Sure," said Wogan, "here is a lesson for architects. Build no shuttersto a house when the man that has to live in it has a spark ofimagination, else will he go stark raving mad before the mortar's dry.Window shutters are window shutters, but they are the doors of Bedlam aswell. Now Gaydon should have slept in this room. Gaydon's a great man.Gaydon has a great deal of observation and common sense, and was neverplagued with a flim-flam of fancies. To be sure, I need Gaydon, butsince I have not Gaydon, I'll light a candle."
With that Wogan got out of bed. He had made himself so secure with hiskey and his tilted chair and his shutters that he had not thought ofplacing his candle by his bedside. It stood by his looking-glass on thetable. Now the room was so pitch dark that Wogan could do no more thanguess at the position even of the window. The table, he remembered, wasnot far from the door, and the door was at some distance from his bed,and in the wall on his right. He moved forward in the darkness with hishands in front of him, groping for the table. The room was large; in alittle his hands touched something, and that something was a pillar ofthe bed. He had missed his way in his bedroom. Wogan laughed to himselfand started off again; and the next thing which his outstretched handstouched was a doorknob. The table should now be a little way to hisleft. He was just turning away in that direction, when it occurred tohim that he ought to have felt the rim of the top bar of his tiltedchair underneath the door-handle. He stooped down and felt for thechair; there was no chair, and he stood very still.
The fears bred of imagination had now left him; he was restored by theshock of an actual danger. He leaned forward quietly and felt if the keywas still in the lock. But there was no lock to this door. Wogan feltthe surface of the door; it was of paper. It was plainly the door of acupboard in the wall, papered after the same pattern as the wall, whichby the flickering light of his single candle he had overlooked.
He opened the door and stretched out his arms into the cupboard. Hetouched something that moved beneath his hand, a stiff, short crop ofhair, the hair of a man's head. He drew his arm away as though an adderhad stung it; he did not utter a cry or make a movement. He stood for amoment paralysed, and during that moment a strong hand caught him by thethroat.
Wogan was borne backwards, his assailant sprang at him from thecupboard, he staggered under the unexpected vigour of the attack, heclutched his enemy, and the two men came to the ground with a crash.Even as he fell Wogan thought, "Gaydon would never have overlooked thatcupboard."
It was the only reflection, however, for which he could afford time. Hewas undermost, and the hand at his throat had the grip of a steel glove.He fought with blows from his fists and his bent knees; he twisted hislegs about the legs of his enemy; he writhed his body if so he mightdislodge him; he grappled wildly for his throat. But all the time hisstrength grew less; he felt that his temples were swelling, and itseemed to him that his eyes must burst. The darkness of the room wasspotted with sparks of fire; the air was filled with a continuous roarlike a million chariots in a street. He saw the face of his chosenwoman, most reproachful and yet kind, gazing at him from behind the barswhich now would never be broken, and then there came a loud banging atthe door. The summons surprised them both, so hotly had they beenengaged, so unaware were they of the noise which their fall had made.
Wogan felt his assailant's hand relax and heard him say in a low muffledvoice, "It is nothing. Go to bed! I fell over a chair in the dark."
That momentary relaxation was, he knew, his last chance. He gathered hisstrength in a supreme effort, lurched over onto his left side, andgetting his right arm free swung it with all his strength in thedirection of the voice. His clenched fist caught his opponent full underthe point of the chin, and the hand at Wogan's throat clutched once andfell away limp as an empty glove. Wogan sat up on the floor and drew hisbreath. That, after all, was more than his antagonist was doing. Theknocking at the door continued; Wogan could not answer it, he had notthe strength. His limbs were shaking, the sweat clotted his hair anddripped from his face. But his opponent was quieter still. At last hemanaged to gather his legs beneath him, to kneel up, to stand shakilyupon his feet. He could no longer mistake the position of the door; hetottered across to it, removed the chair, and opened it.
The landlord with a couple of servants stepped back as Wogan showedhimself to the light of their candles. Wogan heard their exclamations,though he did not clearly understand them, for his ears still buzzed. Hesaw their startled faces, but only dimly, for he was dazzled by thelight. He came back into the room, and pointing to his assailant,--asturdy, broad man, who now sat up opening and shutting his eyes in adazed way,--"Who is that?" he asked, gasping rather than speaking thewords.
"Who is that?" repeated the landlord, staring at Wogan.
"Who is that?" said Wogan, leaning against the bed-post.
"Why, sir, your servant. Who should he be?"
Wogan was silent for a little, considering as well as his rambling witsallowe
d this new development.
"Ah!" said Wogan, "he came here with me?" "Yes, since he is yourservant."
The landlord was evidently mystified; he was no less evidently speakingwith sincerity. Wogan reflected that to proffer a charge against theassailant would involve his own detention in Ulm.
"To be sure," said he, "I know. This is my servant. That is preciselywhat I mean." His wits were at work to find a way out of his difficulty."This is my servant? What then?" he asked fiercely.
"But I don't understand," said the landlord.
"You don't understand!" cried Wogan. "Was there ever such a landlord? Hedoes not understand. This is my servant, I tell you."
"Yes, sir, but--but--"
"Well?"
"We were roused--there was a noise--a noise of men fighting."
"There would have been no noise," said Wogan, triumphantly, "if you hadprepared a bed for my servant. He would not have crept into my cupboardto sleep off his drunkenness."
"But, sir, there was a bed."
"You should have seen that he was carried to it. As it is, here have Ibeen driven to beat him and to lose my night's rest in consequence. Itis not fitting. I do not think that your inn is well managed."
Wogan expressed his indignation with so majestic an air that thelandlord was soon apologising for having disturbed a gentleman in theproper exercise of belabouring his valet.
"We will carry the fellow away," said he.
"You will do nothing of the kind," said Wogan. "He shall get back intohis cupboard and there he shall remain till daybreak. Come, get up!"
Wogan's self-appointed valet got to his feet. There was no possibilityof an escape for him since there were three men between him and thedoor. On the other hand, obedience to Wogan might save him from a chargeof attempted theft.
"In with you," said Wogan, and the man obeyed. His head no doubt wasstill spinning from the blow, and he had the stupid look of one dazed.
"There is no lock to the door," said the landlord.
"There is no need of a lock," said Wogan, "so long as one has a chair.The fellow will do very well till the morning. But I will take yourthree candles, for it is not likely that I shall sleep."
Wogan smoked his pipe all the rest of the night, reclining on a coupleof chairs in front of the cupboard. In the morning he made his valetwalk three miles by his horse's side. The man dared not disobey, andwhen Wogan finally let him go he was so far from the town that, had heconfederates there, he could do no harm.
Wogan continued his journey. Towns, it was proved, were no safer to himthan villages. He began to wonder how it was that no traps had been laidfor him on the earlier stages of his journey, and he suddenly hit uponthe explanation. "It was that night," said he to himself, "when thePrince sat by the Countess with the list of my friends in his hands. Thenames were all erased but three, and against those three was that othername of Schlestadt. No doubt the Countess while she bent over herharp-strings took a look at that list. I must run the gauntlet intoSchlestadt."
Towards evening he came to Stuttgart and rode through the Schloss Platzand along the Koenigstrasse. Wogan would not sleep there, since there theDuke of Wuertemberg held his court, and in that court the Countess ofBerg was very likely to have friends. He rode onwards through the valleyalong the banks of the Nesen brook until he came to its junction withthe Neckar.
A mile farther a wooden mill stood upon the river-bank, beyond the millwas a tavern, and beyond the tavern stood a few cottages. At somedistance from the cottages along the road, Wogan could see a high brickwall, and over the top the chimneys and the slate roof of a large house.Wogan stopped at the tavern. It promised no particular comfort, it was asmall dilapidated house; but it had the advantage that it was free fromnew paint. It seemed to Wogan, however, wellnigh useless to takeprecautions in the choice of a lodging; danger leaped at him from everyquarter. For this last night he must trust to his luck; and besidesthere was the splash of the water falling over the mill-dam. It wasalways something to Wogan to fall asleep with that sound in his ears. Hedismounted accordingly, and having ordered his supper asked for a room.
"You will sleep here?" exclaimed his host.
"I will at all events lie in bed," returned Wogan.
The innkeeper took a lamp and led the way up a narrow winding stair.
"Have a care, sir," said he; "the stairs are steep."
"I prefer them steep."
"I am afraid that I keep the light from you, but there is no room fortwo to walk abreast."
"It is an advantage. I do not like to be jostled on the stairs."
The landlord threw open a door at the top of the stairs.
"The room is a garret," he said in apology.
"So long as it has no cupboards it will serve my turn."
"Ah! you do not like cupboards."
"They fill a poor man with envy of those who have clothes to hang inthem."
Wogan ascertained that there were no cupboards. There was a key, too, inthe lock, and a chest of drawers which could be moved very suitably infront of the door.
"It is a good garret," said Wogan, laying down his bag upon a chair.
"The window is small," continued the landlord.
"One will be less likely to fall out," said Wogan. One would also, hethought, be less likely to climb in. He looked out of the window. It wasa good height from the ground; there was no stanchion or projection inthe wall, and it seemed impossible that a man could get his shouldersthrough the opening. Wogan opened the window to try it, and the sound ofsomeone running came to his ears.
"Oho!" said he, but he said it to himself, "here's a man in a mightyhurry."
A mist was rising from the ground; the evening, too, was dark. Wogancould see no one in the road below, but he heard the footstepsdiminishing into a faint patter. Then they ceased altogether. The manwho ran was running in the direction of Stuttgart.
"Yes, your garret will do," said Wogan, in quite a different voice. Hehad begun to think that this night he would sleep, and he realised nowthat he must not. The man might be running on his own business, but thiswas the last night before Wogan would reach his friends. Stuttgart wasonly three miles away. He could take no risks, and so he must stayawake with his sword upon his knees. Had his horse been able to carryhim farther, he would have ridden on, but the horse was even more wearythan its master. Besides, the narrow staircase made his room anexcellent place to defend.
"Get my supper," said he, "for I am very tired."
"Will your Excellency sup here?" asked the landlord.
"By no manner of means," returned Wogan, who had it in his mind to spyout the land. "I detest nothing so much as my own company."
He went downstairs into the common room and supped off a smoked ham anda bottle of execrable wine. While he ate a man came in and sat him downby the fire. The man had a hot, flushed face, and when he saluted Woganhe could hardly speak.
"You have been running," said Wogan, politely.
"Sir, running is a poor man's overcoat for a chilly evening; besides ithelps me to pay with patience the price of wine for vinegar;" and thefellow called the landlord.
Presently two other men entered, and taking a seat by the fire chattedtogether as though much absorbed in their private business. These twomen wore swords.
"You have a good trade," said Wogan to the landlord.
"The mill brings me custom."
The door opened as the landlord spoke, and a big loud-voiced mancheerily wished the company good evening. The two companions at the firepaid no heed to the civility; the third, who had now quite recovered hisbreath, replied to it. Wogan pushed his plate away and called for apipe. He thought it might perhaps prove well worth his while to studyhis landlord's clients before he retired up those narrow stairs. Thefour men gave no sign of any common agreement, nor were they at allcurious as to Wogan. If they spoke at all, they spoke as strangersspeak. But while Wogan was smoking his first pipe a fifth man entered,and he just gave one quick glance at Wogan. Wogan behind a cloud
oftobacco-smoke saw the movement of the head and detected the look. Itmight signify nothing but curiosity, of course, but Wogan felt glad thatthe stairs were narrow. He finished his pipe and was knocking out theashes when it occurred to him that he had seen that fifth man before;and Wogan looked at him more carefully, and though the fellow wasdisguised by the growth of a beard he recognised him. It was the servantwhom Wogan had seen one day in the Countess of Berg's livery of greenand red galloping along the road to Prague.
"I know enough now," thought Wogan. "I can go to bed. The staircase is apretty place with which we shall all be more familiar in an hour ortwo." He laughed quietly to himself with a little thrill of enjoyment.His fatigue had vanished. He was on the point of getting up from thetable when the two men by the fire looked round towards the last comerand made room for him upon their settle. But he said, "I find the roomhot, and will stay by the door."
Wogan changed his mind at the words; he did not get up. On the contrary,he filled his pipe a second time very thoughtfully. He had stayed toolong in the room, it seemed; the little staircase was, after all, likelyto prove of no service. He did not betray himself by any start orexclamation, he did not even look up, but bending his head over his pipehe thought over the disposition of the room. The fireplace was on hisright; the door was opposite to him; the window in the wall at his left.The window was high from the ground and at some distance. On the otherhand, he had certain advantages. He was in a corner, he had the five menin front of him, and between them and himself stood a solid table. Aloaded pistol was in his belt, his sword hung at his side, and hishunting knife at his waist. Still the aspect of affairs was changed.
"Five men," thought he, "upon a narrow staircase are merely one man whohas to be killed five times, but five men in a room are fivesimultaneous assailants. I need O'Toole here, I need O'Toole's six feetfour and the length of his arm and the weight of him--these things Ineed--but are there five or only four?" And he was at once aware thatthe two men at the fire had ceased to talk of their business. No one,indeed, was speaking at all, and no one so much as shuffled a foot.Wogan raised his head and proceeded to light his pipe; and he saw thatall the five men were silently watching him, and it seemed to him thatthose five pairs of eyes were unnaturally bright.
However, he appeared to be entirely concerned with his pipe, which,however hard he puffed at it, would not draw. No doubt the tobacco waspacked too tight in the bowl. He loosened it, and when he had loosenedit the pipe had gone out. He fumbled in his pocket and discovered in thebreast of his coat a letter. This letter he glanced through to make surethat it was of no importance, and having informed himself upon the pointhe folded it into a long spill and walked over to the hearth.
The five pairs of eyes followed his movements. He, however, had noattention to spare. He bent down, lit his spill in the flame, anddeliberately lighted his pipe. The tobacco rose above the rim of thebowl like a head of ale in a tankard. Wogan, still holding the burningspill in his right hand, pressed down the tobacco with the little fingerof his left, and lighted the pipe again. By this time his spill hadburned down to his fingers. He dropped the end into the fire and walkedback to his seat. The five pairs of eyes again turned as he turned. Hestumbled at a crack in the floor, fell against the table with a clatterof his sword, and rolled noisily into his seat. When he sat down acareful observer might have noticed that his pistol was now at fullcock.
He had barely seated himself when the polite man, who had come firsthot and short of breath into the room, crossed the floor and leaningover the table said with a smile and the gentlest voice, "I think, sir,you ought to know that we are all very poor men."
"I, too," replied Wogan, "am an Irishman."
The polite man leaned farther across the table; his voice becamewheedling in its suavity. "I think you ought to know that we are allvery poor men."
"The repetition of the remark," said Wogan, "argues certainly a povertyof ideas."
"We wish to become less poor."
"It is an aspiration which has pushed many men to creditable feats."
"You can help us."
"My prayers are at your disposal," said Wogan.
"By more than your prayers;" and he added in a tone of apology, "thereare five of us."
"Then I have a guinea apiece for you," and Wogan thrust the table alittle away from him to search his pockets. It also gave him more play.
"We do not want your money. You have a letter which we can coin."
Wogan smiled.
"There, sir, you are wrong."
The polite man waved the statement aside. "A letter from PrinceSobieski," said he.
"I had such a letter a minute ago, but I lit my pipe with it under yournose."
The polite man stepped back; his four companions started to their feet.
The servant from Ohlau cried out with an oath, "It's a lie."
Wogan shrugged his shoulders and crossed his legs.
"Here's a fine world," said he. "A damned rag of a lackey gives agentleman the lie."
"You will give me the letter," said the polite man, coming round thetable. He held his right hand behind his back.
"You can sweep up the ashes from the hearth," said Wogan, who made nomovement of any kind. The polite man came close to his side; Wogan lethim come. The polite man stretched out his left hand towards Wogan'spocket. Wogan knocked the hand away, and the man's right arm swungupwards from behind his back with a gleaming pistol in the hand. Woganwas prepared for him; he had crossed his legs to be prepared, and as thearm came round he kicked upwards from the knee. The toe of his heavyboot caught the man upon the point of the elbow. His arm was flung up;the pistol exploded and then dropped onto the floor. That assailant wasfor the time out of action, but at the same moment the lackey camerunning across the floor, his shoulders thrust forward, a knife in hishand.
Wogan had just time to notice that the lackey's coat was open at hisbreast. He stood up, leaned over the table, caught the lapels one ineach hand as the fellow rushed at him, and lifting the coat up off hisshoulders violently jammed it backwards down his arms as though he wouldstrip him of it. The lackey stood with his arms pinioned at his elbowsfor a second. During that second Wogan drew his hunting knife from hisbelt and drove it with a terrible strength into the man's chest.
"There's a New Year's gift for your mistress, the Countess of Berg,"cried Wogan; and the lackey swung round with the force of the blow andthen hopped twice in a horrible fashion with his feet together acrossthe room as though returning to his place, and fell upon the floor,where he lay twisting.
The polite man was nursing his elbow in a corner; there were threeothers left,--the man with the cheery voice, who had no weapon but aknobbed stick, and the companions on the settle. These two had swordsand had drawn them. They leaped over the lackey's body and rushed atWogan one a little in advance of the other. Wogan tilted the heavy tableand flung it over to make a barricade in front of him. It fell with acrash, and the lower rim struck upon the instep of the leader and pinnedhis foot. His companion drew back; he himself uttered a cry and wrenchedat his foot. Wogan with his left hand drew his sword from the scabbard,and with the same movement passed it through his opponent's body. Theman stood swaying, pinned there by his foot and held erect. Then he madeone desperate lunge, fell forward across the barricade, and hung there.Wogan parried the lunge; the sword fell from the man's hand andclattered onto the floor within the barricade. Wogan stamped upon itwith his heel and snapped the blade. He had still two opponents; and asthey advanced again he suddenly sprung onto the edge of the table, gaveone sweeping cut in a circle with his sword, and darted across the room.The two men gave ground; Wogan passed between them. Before they couldstrike at his back he was facing them again. He had no longer hisbarricade, but on the other hand his shoulders were against the door.
The swordsman crossed blades with him, and at the first pass Woganrealised with dismay that his enemy was a swordsman in knowledge as wellas in the possession of the weapon. He had a fencer's su
ppleness ofwrist and balance of body; he pressed Wogan hard and without flurry. Theblade of his sword made glittering rings about Wogan's, and the pointstruck at his breast like an adder.
Wogan was engaged with his equal if not with his better. He was fightingfor his life with one man, and he would have to fight for it with two,nay, with three. For over his opponent's shoulder he saw his firstpolite antagonist cross to the table and pick up from the ground thebroken sword. One small consolation Wogan had; the fellow picked it upwith his left hand, his right elbow was still useless. But even thatconsolation lasted him for no long time, for out of the tail of his eyehe could see the big fellow creeping up with his stick raised along thewall at his right.
Wogan suddenly pressed upon his opponent, delivering thrust upon thrust,and forced him to give ground. As the swordsman drew back, Wogan swepthis weapon round and slashed at the man upon his right. But the strokewas wide of its mark, and the big man struck at the sword with hisstick, struck with all his might, so that Wogan's arm tingled from thewrist to the shoulder. That, however, was the least part of the damagethe stick did. It broke Wogan's sword short off at the hilt.
Both men gave a cry of delight. Wogan dropped the hilt.
"I have a loaded pistol, my friends; you have forgotten that," he cried,and plucked the pistol from his belt. At the same moment he felt behindhim with his left hand for the knob of the door. He fired at theswordsman and his pistol missed, he flung it at the man with the stick,and as he flung it he sprang to the right, threw open the door, dartedinto the passage, and slammed the door to.
It was the work of a second. The men sprang at him as he opened thedoor; as he slammed it close a sword-point pierced the thin panel andbit like a searing iron into his shoulder. Wogan uttered a cry; he heardan answering shout in the room, he clung to the handle, setting his footagainst the wall, and was then stabbed in the back. For his host waswaiting for him in the passage.
Wogan dropped the door-handle and turned. That last blow had thrown himinto a violent rage. Possessed by rage, he was no longer conscious ofwounds or danger; he was conscious only of superhuman strength. Theknife was already lifted to strike again. Wogan seized the wrist whichheld the knife, grappled with the innkeeper, and caught him about thebody. The door of the room, now behind him, was flung violently open.Wogan, who was wrought to a frenzy, lifted up the man he wrestled with,and swinging round hurled him headlong through the doorway. The threemen were already on the threshold. The new missile bounded against them,tumbled them one against the other, and knocked them sprawling andstruggling on the floor.
Wogan burst into a laugh of exultation; he saw his most dangerous enemystriving to disentangle himself and his sword.
"Aha, my friend," he cried, "you handle a sword very prettily, but I amthe better man at cock-shies." And shutting the door to be ran down thepassage into the road.
He had seen a house that afternoon with a high garden wall about it aquarter of a mile away. Wogan ran towards it. The mist was still thick,but he now began to feel his strength failing. He was wounded in theshoulder, he was stabbed in the back, and from both wounds the blood wasflowing warm. Moreover, he looked backwards once over his shoulder andsaw a lantern dancing in the road. He kept doggedly running, though hispace slackened; he heard a shout and an answering shout behind him. Hestumbled onto his knees, picked himself up, and staggered on, labouringhis breath, dizzy. He stumbled again and fell, but as he fell he struckagainst the sharp corner of the wall. If he could find an entrance intothe garden beyond that wall! He turned off the road to the left and ranacross a field, keeping close along the side of the wall. He came toanother corner and turned to the right. As he turned he heard voices inthe road. The pursuers had stopped and were searching with the lanternfor traces of his passage. He ran along the back of the wall, feelingfor a projection, a tree, anything which would enable him to climb it.The wall was smooth, and though the branches of trees swung and creakedabove his head, their stems grew in the garden upon the other side. Hewas pouring with sweat, his breath whistled, in his ears he had thesound of innumerable armies marching across the earth, but he stumbledon. And at last, though his right side brushed against the wall, he nonethe less struck against it also with his chest. He was too dazed for themoment to understand what had happened; all the breath he had left wasknocked clean out of his body; he dropped in a huddle on the ground.
In a little he recovered his breath; he listened and could no longerhear any sound of voices; he began to consider. He reached a hand out infront of him and touched the wall; he reached out a hand to the right ofhim and touched the wall again. The wall projected then abruptly andmade a right angle.
Now Wogan had spent his boyhood at Rathcoffey among cliffs and rocks.This wall, he reflected, could not be more than twelve feet high. Wouldhis strength last out? He came to the conclusion that it must.
He took off his heavy boots and flung them one by one over the wall.Then he pulled off his coat at the cost of some pain and an addedweakness, for the coat was stuck to his wounds and had roughly staunchedthem. He could feel the blood again soaking his shirt. There was all themore need, then, for hurry. He stood up, jammed his back into the angleof the wall, stretched out his arms on each side, pressing with hiselbows and hands, and then bending his knees crossed his legs tailorfashion, and set the soles of his stockinged feet firmly against thebricks on each side. He was thus seated as it were upon nothing, butretaining his position by the pressure of his arms and feet and hiswhole body. Still retaining this position, very slowly, verylaboriously, he worked himself up the angle, stopping now and then toregain his breath, now and then slipping back an inch. But he mountedtowards the top, and after a while the back of his head no longertouched the bricks. His head was above the coping of the wall.
It was at this moment that he saw the lantern again, just at the cornerwhere he had turned. The lantern advanced slowly; it was now held aloft,now close to the ground. Wogan was very glad he had thrown his bootsand coat into the garden. He made a few last desperate struggles; hecould now place the palms of his hands behind him upon the coping, andhe hoisted himself up and sat on the wall.
The lantern was nearer to him; he lay flat upon his face on the coping,and then lowering himself upon the garden side to the full length of hisarms, he let go. He fell into a litter of dead leaves, very soft andcomfortable. He would not have exchanged them at that moment for theEmperor's own bed. He lay upon his back and saw the dark branches abovehis head grow bright and green. His pursuers were flashing their lanternon the other side; there was only the thickness of the wall between himand them. He could even hear them whispering and the brushing of theirfeet. He lay still as a mouse; and then the earth heaved up and fellaway altogether beneath him. Wogan had fainted.