CHAPTER VII.
I ESCAPE FROM THE JEW'S HOUSE.
It was Mr. Rodriguez. He lay face downward and slantwise across thefront of the hearth, with arms spread, fingers hooked, and his neckprotruding from the collar of his dingy dressing-gown like a pluckedfowl's. He had cast a slipper in falling, and the flesh of one heelshowed through its rent stocking. For a moment I supposed him in afit; the next, I was recoiling towards the wall, away from a darkmoist line which ran from under his left armpit and along the unevenboards to the far corner by the window, and there, under a disorderedtruckle-bed, spread itself in a pool.
With my eyes glued upon this horrid sight I slowly straightenedmyself up--having crouched back until I felt the wall behind me--andso grew aware of a door beside the chimney-breast, and that it stoodajar upon the empty landing. The dead man's heels pointed towardsit, his head towards the window at the foot of the bed.
And still my shaken wits could not clutch at the meaning of what Isaw. I only felt that there was something horrible, menacing,hideously malignant in the figure at my feet: only craved forstrength of will to dash by it, reach the door and fling myself downthe stairs--anywhere--away from it. Had it stirred, I believe it hadthen and there destroyed my reason.
But it did not stir. And all the while I knew that the thing laywith its breast in a bath of blood; that it had been stabbed in theback and the blood welling down under the clothes had gathered in apool, ready to gush and spread on all sides as soon as the bodyshould be lifted or its attitude interfered with. I cannot tell howI found time to reason this out; but I did.
I knew, too, that I could not scream aloud if I tried: but I had nodesire to try. _It_ might wake and lift up its head! I feltbackwards with my hand along the wall, groping unconsciously forsomething to aid my spring towards the door; but desisted. For themoment I could not lift a foot.
With that--either this was all a dream or I heard footsteps on theflat roof outside; very slow, soft footsteps, too, as of somebodywalking on tiptoe. But if on tiptoe, why was he coming _towards_ me?Yet so it was; my ear told me distinctly.
As his feet crunched the leads close outside the window I caught agleam of scarlet; then the frame grew dark between me and thedaylight, and through the pane a man peered cautiously into the room.
It was Archibald Plinlimmon.
He peered in, turning his face sideways for a better view and shadingit, after a moment, with his hand. So shaded, and with the daylightbehind it, his face after that first instant became an inscrutableblur.
But while he peered speech broke from me--words and a wild laugh.
"Look at it! Look at it!" I cried, and pointed.
He drew back instantly, and was gone.
"Don't leave me! Mr. Plinlimmon--please don't leave me!" I made aleap for the window--halted helplessly--and fell back again from thebody. I was alone again. But power to move had come back, and Imust use it while it lasted. If I could gain the stairs now . . .
Stealthily, and more stealthily as the fear returned and grew, Ireached the door, pushed it open, and looked out on the landing. Butfor a worm-eaten trunk and a line of old suits dangling from pegsaround the wall, it was bare. The little light filtered through acracked and discoloured window high up in the slope of the roof.The stairhead lay a short two yards from me, to be reached by onebold leap.
This, however, was not what I first saw; nay, how or when I saw it isa wonder still. For, across the landing, a door faced me; and, as Ipushed mine open, this door had moved--was moving yet, as if to shut.
It did not quite shut. It came to a standstill when almost a footajar. Beyond it I could see yet other suits of clothes hanging: andamong these lurked someone, watching me, perhaps, through the chinkby the hinges. I was sure of it--was almost sure I had seen a handon the edge of the door; a hand with a ring on one of its fingers,and just the edge, and no more, of a black cuff.
For perhaps five seconds I endured it, my hair lifting: then, withone sharp scream I dashed back into the room and across the corpse;struggled for a moment with the window-sash; and flinging it up,dropped out upon the leads.
Out there, in the restorative sunshine, my first thought was to crawlaway as fast and as far as possible; to reach some hiding-place whereI might lie down and pant, unpursued by the horrors of that house.The roofs on my right were flat; I staggered along them, halting atevery few steps to lean a hand for support against one or other ofthe chimney-stacks, now growing warm in the sunshine.
From the far side of one, as I leaned clinging, a man sprang up,almost at my feet. It was Archie Plinlimmon again. He had beenflattening himself against its shadow; and at first--so white andfierce was his face--I made sure he meant to hurl me over and on tothe street below.
"What do you want? What have you seen?" Though he spoke fiercely,his teeth chattered. "Oh--it's you!" he exclaimed, recognising methrough my soot.
"Mr. Plinlimmon--" I began.
"I didn't do it. I didn't--" He broke off. "For Heaven's sake, howare we to get down out of this?"
"There's no way on the street side," I answered, "unless--"
He took me up short. "The street? We can't go that way--it's asmuch as my neck's worth. Yours, too."
"Mr. Trapp's waiting for me," I answered stupidly.
"Who knows who isn't waiting?" he snapped. "We'll have to cut out ofthis." He pointed downward on the side away from the street."I say, what happened? Who did it, eh?"
"I slipped in the chimney," I answered again. "He wanted hischimneys swept this morning. We knocked--Mr. Trapp and I--and no oneanswered: then we tried the door, and it opened. There was no oneabout, and no one in the street but Sergeant Letcher."
He began to shake. "Sergeant Letcher? What do you know aboutSergeant Letcher?"
"Nothing, except that he was in the street--the man the bull chased,you know."
He was shaking yet. "I ought to kill you," said he. "But I didn'tdo it. Look here, show me a way down and I'll let you off.You're used to this work, ain't you?"
"How did you come up?" I asked, innocently enough.
"By the Lord, if you ask questions, I'll strangle you! You were inthe room with--with _it_! I saw you: I'll swear I saw you. Get medown out of this, and hide--get on board some ship, and clear.See? If you breathe a word that you've seen me, I'll cut your heartout. You understand me?"
I hadn't a doubt then that he was guilty. His fear was too craven."There's a warehouse at the end here," said I, and led the way to it.But when we reached it, its roof rose in a sharp slope from the lowparapet guarding the leads where we stood.
"But I don't see," he objected; "and, anyway, I can't manage that."
I pointed to a louver skylight half-way up the roof. "We can prisethat open, or break it. It's easy enough to reach," I assured him.
He was extraordinarily clumsy on the slates, but obeyed myinstructions like a child. I wrenched at the wooden louvers.
"Got a knife?" I asked.
He produced one--an ugly-looking weapon, but clean. By good luck, wedid not need it; for as he passed it to me, the louver at which I wastugging broke and came away in my hand. We easily loosened anotherand, squeezing through, dropped into the loft upon a sliding pile ofgrain.
The loft was dark enough; but a glimmer of light shone through thechinks of a door at the far end. Unbolting it, we looked down, fromthe height of thirty feet or so, into a deserted lane. Or rather _I_looked down: for while I fumbled with the bolts Master Archie hadbanged his head into something hard, and dropped, rubbing the hurtand cursing.
It proved to be the timber cross-piece of a derrick used for hoistingsacks of grain into the loft, working on an axle, and now swunginboard for the night. A double rope ran through the pulley at itsend and had been hitched back over the iron winch which worked it.We pushed the derrick out over the lane and I manned the winchhandle, while Master Archie caught hold of the hook and pulley at theend of the double line. Checking the handle with
all my strength Ilowered him as noiselessly as I could. As his feet touched thecobbles below he let go and, without a thought of my safety, made offdown the lane.
I tugged the derrick inboard and recaptured the rope; cogged thewinch, swung out, dropped hand over hand into the lane, and raced upit with all the terrors of the law at my heels.