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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12126-0.txt b/12126-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44af01a --- /dev/null +++ b/12126-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,458 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12126 *** + +THE LADY OF THE BARGE + +AND OTHER STORIES + +By W. W. Jacobs + + + + +IN THE LIBRARY + + +The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. +It was now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton +Burleigh, still hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the +gas-jets, took a cigar from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat +again. + +The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was +a combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily +despair of the old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, +managed the house. It was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to +Trayton Burleigh and James Fletcher by a distant connection of both men +some ten years before. + +Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar +through half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and +glanced round the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold +gleam of hatred at Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. +It was a comfortable room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to +Trayton Burleigh; and yet he was to leave it in the morning and become a +rogue and a wanderer over the face of the earth. James Fletcher had said +so. James Fletcher, with the pipe still between his teeth and speaking +from one corner of his mouth only, had pronounced his sentence. + +"It hasn't occurred to you, I suppose," said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, +"that I might refuse your terms." + +"No," said Fletcher, simply. + +Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out. + +"I am to go out and leave you in possession?" he continued. "You will +stay here sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole +owner and representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, +James Fletcher." + +"I am an honest man," said Fletcher, "and to raise sufficient money to +make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as +you very well know." + +"There is no necessity to borrow," began Burleigh, eagerly. "We can pay +the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good +without a soul being the wiser." + +"That you suggested before," said Fletcher, "and my answer is the same. +I will be no man's confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at +all costs, and save the name of the firm--and yours with it--but I will +never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after +to-night." + +"You won't," cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage. + +"I won't," said Fletcher. "You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don't stand over me; you won't frighten me, I can +assure you. Sit down." + +"You have arranged so many things in your kindness," said Burleigh, +slowly, resuming his seat again, "have you arranged how I am to live?" + +"You have two strong hands, and health," replied Fletcher. "I will give +you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out +for yourself. You can take it now." + +He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of +notes. Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took +them from the table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and +crumpling them in his hand, threw them into a corner of the room. +Fletcher smoked on. + +"Mrs. Marl is out?" said Burleigh, suddenly. + +Fletcher nodded. + +"She will be away the night," he said, slowly; "and Jane too; they have +gone together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the +morning." + +"You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then," +said Burleigh. "Half-past eight, half-past----" + +He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his +mouth and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the +notes, placed them in his pocket. + +"If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here," he +said, in a thick voice. + +He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from +his chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, +and drawing a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, +stepped slowly toward him. + +"I give you one chance, Fletcher," he said, grimly. "You are a man of +your word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you +are safe." + +"Put that down," said Fletcher, sharply. + +"By ---, I mean what I say!" cried the other. + +"I mean what I said!" answered Fletcher. + +He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly +at a sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh's clenched fist nearly touching +his breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something +with it. It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a +great distance and the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, +with an attempt to raise his hands, let them fall to his side instead, +and fell in a heap to the floor. + +He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, +and stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his +handkerchief as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put +it back into his pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor. + +The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to +the gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say +vulgar; now Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door, until the body was hidden by the table, and relieved from the +sight, he could think more clearly. He looked down carefully and +examined his clothes and his boots. Then he crossed the room again, and +with his face averted, turned out the gas. Something seemed to stir in +the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered toward the door before he +had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve. + +[Illustration: BURLEIGH, WITH A FEELING OF NAUSEA, DREW BACK TOWARD THE +DOOOR.] + +He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to +think. The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all +looked so prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had +occurred. He walked slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness +of the upper part of the house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden +panic he ran down stairs into the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from +the stand, went to the door and walked down to the gate. + +Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the +lamps shone tip a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and +the muddy road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw +up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming +slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings. + +The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. +Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? +Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing +there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not +feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a +remark as to the weather. + +Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, +he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship +should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by +the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and +went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on +the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way, +and sitting down on his bed, tried to think. + +He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small +notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, +and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such +articles of jewellery as he possessed. + +The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the +fear of death. + +With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first +moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had +often read of people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and +eventually falling into their hands for lack of the most elementary +common sense. He had heard it said that they always made some stupid +blunder, left behind them some damning clue. He took his revolver from a +drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the worst came to the worst, he +would die quickly. + +Eight hours' start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at +first in some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When +the hue-and-cry had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He +would go out of a night and post letters to himself, or better still, +postcards, which his landlady would read. Postcards from cheery friends, +from a sister, from a brother. During the day he would stay in and +write, as became a man who described himself as a journalist. + +Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, +bathing and boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. +One might mean life, and the other death. Which? + +His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So +many people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely +pass unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up +and nervously paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it +meant so much, as he had thought. + +The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out "one," followed +immediately by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the +clock, it seemed the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He +wondered whether the thing lying by the far side of the table heard it. +He wondered---- + +He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board +creaked loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a +little way, but without looking out, listened. The house was so still +that he could hear the ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He +opened the door a little wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a +sudden sharp outcry on the stairs, and he drew back into the room and +stood trembling before he had quite realized that the noise had been made +by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but what had disturbed it? + +There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became +certain that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the +boards creak again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The +silence and suspense were frightful. Suppose that the something which +had been Fletcher waited for him in the darkness outside? + +He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what +was beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and +he peered about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher's +room opposite close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the +door really turn? + +In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that +nothing came out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark +stairs. Then his jaw fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The +library door, which he distinctly remembered closing, and which, +moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up stairs to his room, now +stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that there was a +rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly and +unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall. + +He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became +aware of his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With +a sudden impulse he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it +violently, turned the key in the lock, and ran madly down the stairs. + +A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the +panels of the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them +sounded the loud hoarse cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to +the hall, stopped with his hand on the balustrade and listened. The +beating ceased, and a man's voice cried out loudly for God's sake to let +him out. + +At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. +He had left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some +wandering bird of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go +now. No need to hide either from the hangman's rope or the felon's cell. +The fool above had saved him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as +the prisoner in his furious efforts to escape wrenched the handle from +the door. + +"Who's there?" he cried, loudly. + +"Let me out!" cried a frantic voice. "For God's sake, open the door! +There's something here." + +"Stay where you are!" shouted Burleigh, sternly. "Stay where you are! +If you come out, I'll shoot you like a dog!" + +The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh +raised his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man's chest, fired +through the panel. + +The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh +fled hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted +loudly for assistance. + +It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in +the road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with +incoherent explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside +the library door. The prisoner was still inside, still trying to +demolish the lock of the sturdy oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the +key, but the lock was too damaged to admit of its moving. The sergeant +drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled himself at the door and burst +it open. + +He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of +light from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man +lurking behind the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the +three men were locked together. + +Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself +for the scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men +and the sharp catch of the prisoner's breath, there was no noise. A +helmet fell off and bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; +there was a sobbing snarl and a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the +floor; the other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing +figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas. + +The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He +was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and +gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set +fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut +and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The +cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had +left Fletcher. + +"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we +were handy." + +The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror +in his eyes. + +"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the +pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes +altogether. By ---, I've not." + +The sergeant regarded him curiously. + +"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't +make any difference." + +The man shook and began to whimper. + +"It was 'ere when I come," he said, eagerly; "take that down, sir. I've +only just come, and it was 'ere when I come. I tried to get away then, +but I was locked in." + +"What was?" demanded the sergeant. + +"That," he said, desperately. + +The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away +the cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the +wall. + +"All right, sir," said the sergeant, catching him; "all right. Turn your +head away." + +He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but +he drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited +patiently. There was no hurry. + +"Who is it, sir?" he asked at length. + +"My friend--Fletcher," said Burleigh, with an effort. "We lived +together." He turned to the prisoner. + +"You damned villain!" + +"He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen," said the prisoner, +strenuously. "He was on the floor dead, and when I see 'im, I tried to +get out. S' 'elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn't +ha' called out if I'd killed him." + +"All right," said the sergeant, gruffly; "you'd better hold your tongue, +you know." + +"You keep quiet," urged the constable. + +The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man's head. + +"I 'ad nothing to do with it," repeated the man on the floor. "I 'ad +nothing to do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I've only been +in the place ten minutes; put that down, sir." + +The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese +sword, held it at him. + +"I've never seen it before," said the prisoner, struggling. + +"It used to hang on the wall," said Burleigh. "He must have snatched it +down. It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago." + +"How long?" inquired the sergeant. + +"Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour," was the reply. "I went to my +bedroom." + +The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly. + +"You done it!" he cried, fiercely. "You done it, and you want me to +swing for it." + +"That 'll do," said the indignant constable. + +The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again. + +"You hold your tongue, you devil!" he said, menacingly. + +He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took +it in his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh. + +"Feeling better, sir?" he asked. + +The other nodded faintly. + +"You won't want this thing any more," said the sergeant. + +He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from +him gently, put it into his pocket. + +"You've hurt your wrist, sir," he said, anxiously. + +Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other. + +"This one, I think," said the sergeant. "I saw it just now." + +He took the other's wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the +grip of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket--something hard and +cold, which snapped suddenly on Burleigh's wrists, and held them fast. + +"That's right," said the sergeant; "keep quiet." + +The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him +furiously. + +"Take these things off!" he choked. "Have you gone mad? Take them +off!" + +"All in good time," said the sergeant. + +"Take them off!" cried Burleigh again. + +For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily +at his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the +room and pushed him into a chair. + +"Collins," he said, sharply. + +"Sir?" said the astonished subordinate. + +"Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!" said the other. +"This man is not dead!" + +As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and +tried to pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, +watched like one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the +breathless surgeon, saw the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw +the eyes of the dying man open and the lips of the dying man move. He +was conscious that the sergeant made some notes in a pocket-book, and +that all three men eyed him closely. The sergeant stepped toward him and +placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient to the touch, he arose and +went with him out into the night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12126 *** diff --git a/12126-h.zip b/12126-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aaef492 --- /dev/null +++ b/12126-h.zip diff --git a/12126-h/004.jpg b/12126-h/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c6b3e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/12126-h/004.jpg diff --git a/12126-h/12126-h.htm b/12126-h/12126-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8f9cd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/12126-h/12126-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,966 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>THE LADY OF THE BARGE AND OTHERS, Book 6</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +img {border: 0;} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In The Library + The Lady of the Barge and Others, Part 6. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: April 22, 2004 [EBook #12126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover.jpg (102K)" src="cover.jpg" height="923" width="738"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title.jpg (40K)" src="title.jpg" height="602" width="442"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<center> +<h1>THE LADY OF THE BARGE<br><br> +AND OTHER STORIES</h1> +<br><br> +<h2>By W. W. Jacobs</h2> +<br><br> +<h3>BOOK 6</h3> +<br><br> +</center> + +<a name="frontis"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="frontis.jpg (80K)" src="frontis.jpg" height="742" width="503"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + + + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + +<a name="c6"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +IN THE LIBRARY +</h2> +</center> +<br> + +<p>The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. +It was now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton +Burleigh, still hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the +gas-jets, took a cigar from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat +again.</p> + +<p>The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was +a combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily +despair of the old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, +managed the house. It was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to +Trayton Burleigh and James Fletcher by a distant connection of both men +some ten years before.</p> + +<p>Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar +through half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and +glanced round the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold +gleam of hatred at Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. +It was a comfortable room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to +Trayton Burleigh; and yet he was to leave it in the morning and become a +rogue and a wanderer over the face of the earth. James Fletcher had said +so. James Fletcher, with the pipe still between his teeth and speaking +from one corner of his mouth only, had pronounced his sentence.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't occurred to you, I suppose," said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, +"that I might refuse your terms."</p> + +<p>"No," said Fletcher, simply.</p> + +<p>Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out.</p> + +<p>"I am to go out and leave you in possession?" he continued. "You will +stay here sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole +owner and representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, +James Fletcher."</p> + +<p>"I am an honest man," said Fletcher, "and to raise sufficient money to +make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as +you very well know."</p> + +<p>"There is no necessity to borrow," began Burleigh, eagerly. "We can pay +the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good +without a soul being the wiser."</p> + +<p>"That you suggested before," said Fletcher, "and my answer is the same. +I will be no man's confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at +all costs, and save the name of the firm—and yours with it—but I will +never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after +to-night."</p> + +<p>"You won't," cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Fletcher. "You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don't stand over me; you won't frighten me, I can +assure you. Sit down."</p> + +<p>"You have arranged so many things in your kindness," said Burleigh, +slowly, resuming his seat again, "have you arranged how I am to live?"</p> + +<p>"You have two strong hands, and health," replied Fletcher. "I will give +you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out +for yourself. You can take it now."</p> + +<p>He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of +notes. Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took +them from the table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and +crumpling them in his hand, threw them into a corner of the room. +Fletcher smoked on.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marl is out?" said Burleigh, suddenly.</p> + +<p>Fletcher nodded.</p> + +<p>"She will be away the night," he said, slowly; "and Jane too; they have +gone together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then," +said Burleigh. "Half-past eight, half-past—-"</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his +mouth and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the +notes, placed them in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here," he +said, in a thick voice.</p> + +<p>He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from +his chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, +and drawing a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, +stepped slowly toward him.</p> + +<p>"I give you one chance, Fletcher," he said, grimly. "You are a man of +your word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you +are safe."</p> + +<p>"Put that down," said Fletcher, sharply.</p> + +<p>"By —, I mean what I say!" cried the other.</p> + +<p>"I mean what I said!" answered Fletcher.</p> + +<p>He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly +at a sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh's clenched fist nearly touching +his breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something +with it. It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a +great distance and the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, +with an attempt to raise his hands, let them fall to his side instead, +and fell in a heap to the floor.</p> + +<p>He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, +and stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his +handkerchief as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put +it back into his pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor.</p> + + +<a name="004"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="004.jpg (81K)" src="004.jpg" height="772" width="503"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to +the gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say +vulgar; now Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door, until the body was hidden by the table, and relieved from the +sight, he could think more clearly. He looked down carefully and +examined his clothes and his boots. Then he crossed the room again, and +with his face averted, turned out the gas. Something seemed to stir in +the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered toward the door before he +had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve.</p> + + + +<p>He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to +think. The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all +looked so prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had +occurred. He walked slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness +of the upper part of the house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden +panic he ran down stairs into the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from +the stand, went to the door and walked down to the gate.</p> + +<p>Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the +lamps shone tip a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and +the muddy road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw +up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming +slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings.</p> + +<p>The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. +Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? +Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing +there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not +feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a +remark as to the weather.</p> + +<p>Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, +he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship +should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by +the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and +went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on +the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way, +and sitting down on his bed, tried to think.</p> + +<p>He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small +notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, +and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such +articles of jewellery as he possessed.</p> + +<p>The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the +fear of death.</p> + +<p>With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first +moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had +often read of people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and +eventually falling into their hands for lack of the most elementary +common sense. He had heard it said that they always made some stupid +blunder, left behind them some damning clue. He took his revolver from a +drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the worst came to the worst, he +would die quickly.</p> + +<p>Eight hours' start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at +first in some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When +the hue-and-cry had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He +would go out of a night and post letters to himself, or better still, +postcards, which his landlady would read. Postcards from cheery friends, +from a sister, from a brother. During the day he would stay in and +write, as became a man who described himself as a journalist.</p> + +<p>Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, +bathing and boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. +One might mean life, and the other death. Which?</p> + +<p>His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So +many people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely +pass unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up +and nervously paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it +meant so much, as he had thought.</p> + +<p>The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out "one," followed +immediately by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the +clock, it seemed the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He +wondered whether the thing lying by the far side of the table heard it. +He wondered—-</p> + +<p>He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board +creaked loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a +little way, but without looking out, listened. The house was so still +that he could hear the ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He +opened the door a little wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a +sudden sharp outcry on the stairs, and he drew back into the room and +stood trembling before he had quite realized that the noise had been made +by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but what had disturbed it?</p> + +<p>There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became +certain that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the +boards creak again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The +silence and suspense were frightful. Suppose that the something which +had been Fletcher waited for him in the darkness outside?</p> + +<p>He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what +was beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and +he peered about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher's +room opposite close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the +door really turn?</p> + +<p>In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that +nothing came out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark +stairs. Then his jaw fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The +library door, which he distinctly remembered closing, and which, +moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up stairs to his room, now +stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that there was a +rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly and +unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall.</p> + +<p>He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became +aware of his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With +a sudden impulse he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it +violently, turned the key in the lock, and ran madly down the stairs.</p> + +<p>A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the +panels of the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them +sounded the loud hoarse cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to +the hall, stopped with his hand on the balustrade and listened. The +beating ceased, and a man's voice cried out loudly for God's sake to let +him out.</p> + +<p>At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. +He had left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some +wandering bird of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go +now. No need to hide either from the hangman's rope or the felon's cell. +The fool above had saved him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as +the prisoner in his furious efforts to escape wrenched the handle from +the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he cried, loudly.</p> + +<p>"Let me out!" cried a frantic voice. "For God's sake, open the door! +There's something here."</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are!" shouted Burleigh, sternly. "Stay where you are! +If you come out, I'll shoot you like a dog!"</p> + +<p>The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh +raised his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man's chest, fired +through the panel.</p> + +<p>The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh +fled hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted +loudly for assistance.</p> + +<p>It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in +the road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with +incoherent explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside +the library door. The prisoner was still inside, still trying to +demolish the lock of the sturdy oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the +key, but the lock was too damaged to admit of its moving. The sergeant +drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled himself at the door and burst +it open.</p> + +<p>He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of +light from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man +lurking behind the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the +three men were locked together.</p> + +<p>Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself +for the scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men +and the sharp catch of the prisoner's breath, there was no noise. A +helmet fell off and bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; +there was a sobbing snarl and a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the +floor; the other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing +figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas.</p> + +<p>The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He +was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and +gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set +fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut +and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The +cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had +left Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we +were handy."</p> + +<p>The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the +pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes +altogether. By —, I've not."</p> + +<p>The sergeant regarded him curiously.</p> + +<p>"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't +make any difference."</p> + +<p>The man shook and began to whimper.</p> + +<p>"It was 'ere when I come," he said, eagerly; "take that down, sir. I've +only just come, and it was 'ere when I come. I tried to get away then, +but I was locked in."</p> + +<p>"What was?" demanded the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, desperately.</p> + +<p>The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away +the cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the +wall.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said the sergeant, catching him; "all right. Turn your +head away."</p> + +<p>He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but +he drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited +patiently. There was no hurry.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, sir?" he asked at length.</p> + +<p>"My friend—Fletcher," said Burleigh, with an effort. "We lived +together." He turned to the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"You damned villain!"</p> + +<p>"He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen," said the prisoner, +strenuously. "He was on the floor dead, and when I see 'im, I tried to +get out. S' 'elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn't +ha' called out if I'd killed him."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the sergeant, gruffly; "you'd better hold your tongue, +you know."</p> + +<p>"You keep quiet," urged the constable.</p> + +<p>The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man's head.</p> + +<p>"I 'ad nothing to do with it," repeated the man on the floor. "I 'ad +nothing to do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I've only been +in the place ten minutes; put that down, sir."</p> + +<p>The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese +sword, held it at him.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen it before," said the prisoner, struggling.</p> + +<p>"It used to hang on the wall," said Burleigh. "He must have snatched it +down. It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago."</p> + +<p>"How long?" inquired the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour," was the reply. "I went to my +bedroom."</p> + +<p>The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly.</p> + +<p>"You done it!" he cried, fiercely. "You done it, and you want me to +swing for it."</p> + +<p>"That 'll do," said the indignant constable.</p> + +<p>The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again.</p> + +<p>"You hold your tongue, you devil!" he said, menacingly.</p> + +<p>He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took +it in his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh.</p> + +<p>"Feeling better, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The other nodded faintly.</p> + +<p>"You won't want this thing any more," said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from +him gently, put it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You've hurt your wrist, sir," he said, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other.</p> + +<p>"This one, I think," said the sergeant. "I saw it just now."</p> + +<p>He took the other's wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the +grip of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket—something hard and +cold, which snapped suddenly on Burleigh's wrists, and held them fast.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the sergeant; "keep quiet."</p> + +<p>The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him +furiously.</p> + +<p>"Take these things off!" he choked. "Have you gone mad? Take them +off!"</p> + +<p>"All in good time," said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Take them off!" cried Burleigh again.</p> + +<p>For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily +at his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the +room and pushed him into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Collins," he said, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said the astonished subordinate.</p> + +<p>"Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!" said the other. +"This man is not dead!"</p> + +<p>As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and +tried to pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, +watched like one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the +breathless surgeon, saw the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw +the eyes of the dying man open and the lips of the dying man move. He +was conscious that the sergeant made some notes in a pocket-book, and +that all three men eyed him closely. The sergeant stepped toward him and +placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient to the touch, he arose and +went with him out into the night.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + +***** This file should be named 12126-h.htm or 12126-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/2/12126/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In The Library + The Lady of the Barge and Others, Part 6. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: April 22, 2004 [EBook #12126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +THE LADY OF THE BARGE + +AND OTHER STORIES + +By W. W. Jacobs + + + + +IN THE LIBRARY + + +The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. +It was now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton +Burleigh, still hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the +gas-jets, took a cigar from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat +again. + +The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was +a combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily +despair of the old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, +managed the house. It was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to +Trayton Burleigh and James Fletcher by a distant connection of both men +some ten years before. + +Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar +through half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and +glanced round the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold +gleam of hatred at Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. +It was a comfortable room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to +Trayton Burleigh; and yet he was to leave it in the morning and become a +rogue and a wanderer over the face of the earth. James Fletcher had said +so. James Fletcher, with the pipe still between his teeth and speaking +from one corner of his mouth only, had pronounced his sentence. + +"It hasn't occurred to you, I suppose," said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, +"that I might refuse your terms." + +"No," said Fletcher, simply. + +Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out. + +"I am to go out and leave you in possession?" he continued. "You will +stay here sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole +owner and representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, +James Fletcher." + +"I am an honest man," said Fletcher, "and to raise sufficient money to +make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as +you very well know." + +"There is no necessity to borrow," began Burleigh, eagerly. "We can pay +the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good +without a soul being the wiser." + +"That you suggested before," said Fletcher, "and my answer is the same. +I will be no man's confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at +all costs, and save the name of the firm--and yours with it--but I will +never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after +to-night." + +"You won't," cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage. + +"I won't," said Fletcher. "You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don't stand over me; you won't frighten me, I can +assure you. Sit down." + +"You have arranged so many things in your kindness," said Burleigh, +slowly, resuming his seat again, "have you arranged how I am to live?" + +"You have two strong hands, and health," replied Fletcher. "I will give +you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out +for yourself. You can take it now." + +He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of +notes. Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took +them from the table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and +crumpling them in his hand, threw them into a corner of the room. +Fletcher smoked on. + +"Mrs. Marl is out?" said Burleigh, suddenly. + +Fletcher nodded. + +"She will be away the night," he said, slowly; "and Jane too; they have +gone together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the +morning." + +"You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then," +said Burleigh. "Half-past eight, half-past----" + +He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his +mouth and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the +notes, placed them in his pocket. + +"If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here," he +said, in a thick voice. + +He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from +his chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, +and drawing a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, +stepped slowly toward him. + +"I give you one chance, Fletcher," he said, grimly. "You are a man of +your word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you +are safe." + +"Put that down," said Fletcher, sharply. + +"By ---, I mean what I say!" cried the other. + +"I mean what I said!" answered Fletcher. + +He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly +at a sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh's clenched fist nearly touching +his breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something +with it. It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a +great distance and the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, +with an attempt to raise his hands, let them fall to his side instead, +and fell in a heap to the floor. + +He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, +and stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his +handkerchief as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put +it back into his pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor. + +The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to +the gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say +vulgar; now Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door, until the body was hidden by the table, and relieved from the +sight, he could think more clearly. He looked down carefully and +examined his clothes and his boots. Then he crossed the room again, and +with his face averted, turned out the gas. Something seemed to stir in +the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered toward the door before he +had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve. + +[Illustration: BURLEIGH, WITH A FEELING OF NAUSEA, DREW BACK TOWARD THE +DOOOR.] + +He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to +think. The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all +looked so prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had +occurred. He walked slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness +of the upper part of the house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden +panic he ran down stairs into the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from +the stand, went to the door and walked down to the gate. + +Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the +lamps shone tip a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and +the muddy road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw +up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming +slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings. + +The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. +Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? +Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing +there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not +feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a +remark as to the weather. + +Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, +he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship +should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by +the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and +went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on +the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way, +and sitting down on his bed, tried to think. + +He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small +notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, +and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such +articles of jewellery as he possessed. + +The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the +fear of death. + +With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first +moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had +often read of people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and +eventually falling into their hands for lack of the most elementary +common sense. He had heard it said that they always made some stupid +blunder, left behind them some damning clue. He took his revolver from a +drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the worst came to the worst, he +would die quickly. + +Eight hours' start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at +first in some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When +the hue-and-cry had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He +would go out of a night and post letters to himself, or better still, +postcards, which his landlady would read. Postcards from cheery friends, +from a sister, from a brother. During the day he would stay in and +write, as became a man who described himself as a journalist. + +Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, +bathing and boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. +One might mean life, and the other death. Which? + +His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So +many people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely +pass unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up +and nervously paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it +meant so much, as he had thought. + +The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out "one," followed +immediately by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the +clock, it seemed the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He +wondered whether the thing lying by the far side of the table heard it. +He wondered---- + +He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board +creaked loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a +little way, but without looking out, listened. The house was so still +that he could hear the ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He +opened the door a little wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a +sudden sharp outcry on the stairs, and he drew back into the room and +stood trembling before he had quite realized that the noise had been made +by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but what had disturbed it? + +There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became +certain that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the +boards creak again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The +silence and suspense were frightful. Suppose that the something which +had been Fletcher waited for him in the darkness outside? + +He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what +was beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and +he peered about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher's +room opposite close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the +door really turn? + +In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that +nothing came out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark +stairs. Then his jaw fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The +library door, which he distinctly remembered closing, and which, +moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up stairs to his room, now +stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that there was a +rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly and +unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall. + +He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became +aware of his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With +a sudden impulse he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it +violently, turned the key in the lock, and ran madly down the stairs. + +A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the +panels of the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them +sounded the loud hoarse cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to +the hall, stopped with his hand on the balustrade and listened. The +beating ceased, and a man's voice cried out loudly for God's sake to let +him out. + +At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. +He had left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some +wandering bird of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go +now. No need to hide either from the hangman's rope or the felon's cell. +The fool above had saved him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as +the prisoner in his furious efforts to escape wrenched the handle from +the door. + +"Who's there?" he cried, loudly. + +"Let me out!" cried a frantic voice. "For God's sake, open the door! +There's something here." + +"Stay where you are!" shouted Burleigh, sternly. "Stay where you are! +If you come out, I'll shoot you like a dog!" + +The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh +raised his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man's chest, fired +through the panel. + +The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh +fled hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted +loudly for assistance. + +It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in +the road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with +incoherent explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside +the library door. The prisoner was still inside, still trying to +demolish the lock of the sturdy oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the +key, but the lock was too damaged to admit of its moving. The sergeant +drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled himself at the door and burst +it open. + +He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of +light from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man +lurking behind the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the +three men were locked together. + +Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself +for the scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men +and the sharp catch of the prisoner's breath, there was no noise. A +helmet fell off and bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; +there was a sobbing snarl and a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the +floor; the other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing +figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas. + +The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He +was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and +gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set +fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut +and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The +cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had +left Fletcher. + +"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we +were handy." + +The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror +in his eyes. + +"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the +pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes +altogether. By ---, I've not." + +The sergeant regarded him curiously. + +"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't +make any difference." + +The man shook and began to whimper. + +"It was 'ere when I come," he said, eagerly; "take that down, sir. I've +only just come, and it was 'ere when I come. I tried to get away then, +but I was locked in." + +"What was?" demanded the sergeant. + +"That," he said, desperately. + +The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away +the cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the +wall. + +"All right, sir," said the sergeant, catching him; "all right. Turn your +head away." + +He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but +he drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited +patiently. There was no hurry. + +"Who is it, sir?" he asked at length. + +"My friend--Fletcher," said Burleigh, with an effort. "We lived +together." He turned to the prisoner. + +"You damned villain!" + +"He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen," said the prisoner, +strenuously. "He was on the floor dead, and when I see 'im, I tried to +get out. S' 'elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn't +ha' called out if I'd killed him." + +"All right," said the sergeant, gruffly; "you'd better hold your tongue, +you know." + +"You keep quiet," urged the constable. + +The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man's head. + +"I 'ad nothing to do with it," repeated the man on the floor. "I 'ad +nothing to do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I've only been +in the place ten minutes; put that down, sir." + +The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese +sword, held it at him. + +"I've never seen it before," said the prisoner, struggling. + +"It used to hang on the wall," said Burleigh. "He must have snatched it +down. It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago." + +"How long?" inquired the sergeant. + +"Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour," was the reply. "I went to my +bedroom." + +The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly. + +"You done it!" he cried, fiercely. "You done it, and you want me to +swing for it." + +"That 'll do," said the indignant constable. + +The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again. + +"You hold your tongue, you devil!" he said, menacingly. + +He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took +it in his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh. + +"Feeling better, sir?" he asked. + +The other nodded faintly. + +"You won't want this thing any more," said the sergeant. + +He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from +him gently, put it into his pocket. + +"You've hurt your wrist, sir," he said, anxiously. + +Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other. + +"This one, I think," said the sergeant. "I saw it just now." + +He took the other's wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the +grip of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket--something hard and +cold, which snapped suddenly on Burleigh's wrists, and held them fast. + +"That's right," said the sergeant; "keep quiet." + +The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him +furiously. + +"Take these things off!" he choked. "Have you gone mad? Take them +off!" + +"All in good time," said the sergeant. + +"Take them off!" cried Burleigh again. + +For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily +at his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the +room and pushed him into a chair. + +"Collins," he said, sharply. + +"Sir?" said the astonished subordinate. + +"Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!" said the other. +"This man is not dead!" + +As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and +tried to pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, +watched like one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the +breathless surgeon, saw the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw +the eyes of the dying man open and the lips of the dying man move. He +was conscious that the sergeant made some notes in a pocket-book, and +that all three men eyed him closely. The sergeant stepped toward him and +placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient to the touch, he arose and +went with him out into the night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + +***** This file should be named 12126.txt or 12126.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/2/12126/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b9149 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12126 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12126) diff --git a/old/12126-h.zip b/old/12126-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aaef492 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12126-h.zip diff --git a/old/12126-h/004.jpg b/old/12126-h/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c6b3e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12126-h/004.jpg diff --git a/old/12126-h/12126-h.htm b/old/12126-h/12126-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8f9cd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12126-h/12126-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,966 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>THE LADY OF THE BARGE AND OTHERS, Book 6</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +img {border: 0;} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In The Library + The Lady of the Barge and Others, Part 6. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: April 22, 2004 [EBook #12126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover.jpg (102K)" src="cover.jpg" height="923" width="738"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title.jpg (40K)" src="title.jpg" height="602" width="442"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<center> +<h1>THE LADY OF THE BARGE<br><br> +AND OTHER STORIES</h1> +<br><br> +<h2>By W. W. Jacobs</h2> +<br><br> +<h3>BOOK 6</h3> +<br><br> +</center> + +<a name="frontis"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="frontis.jpg (80K)" src="frontis.jpg" height="742" width="503"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + + + + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + +<a name="c6"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +IN THE LIBRARY +</h2> +</center> +<br> + +<p>The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. +It was now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton +Burleigh, still hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the +gas-jets, took a cigar from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat +again.</p> + +<p>The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was +a combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily +despair of the old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, +managed the house. It was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to +Trayton Burleigh and James Fletcher by a distant connection of both men +some ten years before.</p> + +<p>Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar +through half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and +glanced round the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold +gleam of hatred at Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. +It was a comfortable room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to +Trayton Burleigh; and yet he was to leave it in the morning and become a +rogue and a wanderer over the face of the earth. James Fletcher had said +so. James Fletcher, with the pipe still between his teeth and speaking +from one corner of his mouth only, had pronounced his sentence.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't occurred to you, I suppose," said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, +"that I might refuse your terms."</p> + +<p>"No," said Fletcher, simply.</p> + +<p>Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out.</p> + +<p>"I am to go out and leave you in possession?" he continued. "You will +stay here sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole +owner and representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, +James Fletcher."</p> + +<p>"I am an honest man," said Fletcher, "and to raise sufficient money to +make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as +you very well know."</p> + +<p>"There is no necessity to borrow," began Burleigh, eagerly. "We can pay +the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good +without a soul being the wiser."</p> + +<p>"That you suggested before," said Fletcher, "and my answer is the same. +I will be no man's confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at +all costs, and save the name of the firm—and yours with it—but I will +never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after +to-night."</p> + +<p>"You won't," cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Fletcher. "You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don't stand over me; you won't frighten me, I can +assure you. Sit down."</p> + +<p>"You have arranged so many things in your kindness," said Burleigh, +slowly, resuming his seat again, "have you arranged how I am to live?"</p> + +<p>"You have two strong hands, and health," replied Fletcher. "I will give +you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out +for yourself. You can take it now."</p> + +<p>He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of +notes. Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took +them from the table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and +crumpling them in his hand, threw them into a corner of the room. +Fletcher smoked on.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marl is out?" said Burleigh, suddenly.</p> + +<p>Fletcher nodded.</p> + +<p>"She will be away the night," he said, slowly; "and Jane too; they have +gone together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then," +said Burleigh. "Half-past eight, half-past—-"</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his +mouth and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the +notes, placed them in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here," he +said, in a thick voice.</p> + +<p>He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from +his chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, +and drawing a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, +stepped slowly toward him.</p> + +<p>"I give you one chance, Fletcher," he said, grimly. "You are a man of +your word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you +are safe."</p> + +<p>"Put that down," said Fletcher, sharply.</p> + +<p>"By —, I mean what I say!" cried the other.</p> + +<p>"I mean what I said!" answered Fletcher.</p> + +<p>He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly +at a sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh's clenched fist nearly touching +his breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something +with it. It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a +great distance and the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, +with an attempt to raise his hands, let them fall to his side instead, +and fell in a heap to the floor.</p> + +<p>He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, +and stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his +handkerchief as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put +it back into his pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor.</p> + + +<a name="004"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="004.jpg (81K)" src="004.jpg" height="772" width="503"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to +the gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say +vulgar; now Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door, until the body was hidden by the table, and relieved from the +sight, he could think more clearly. He looked down carefully and +examined his clothes and his boots. Then he crossed the room again, and +with his face averted, turned out the gas. Something seemed to stir in +the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered toward the door before he +had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve.</p> + + + +<p>He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to +think. The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all +looked so prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had +occurred. He walked slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness +of the upper part of the house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden +panic he ran down stairs into the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from +the stand, went to the door and walked down to the gate.</p> + +<p>Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the +lamps shone tip a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and +the muddy road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw +up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming +slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings.</p> + +<p>The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. +Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? +Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing +there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not +feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a +remark as to the weather.</p> + +<p>Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, +he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship +should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by +the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and +went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on +the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way, +and sitting down on his bed, tried to think.</p> + +<p>He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small +notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, +and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such +articles of jewellery as he possessed.</p> + +<p>The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the +fear of death.</p> + +<p>With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first +moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had +often read of people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and +eventually falling into their hands for lack of the most elementary +common sense. He had heard it said that they always made some stupid +blunder, left behind them some damning clue. He took his revolver from a +drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the worst came to the worst, he +would die quickly.</p> + +<p>Eight hours' start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at +first in some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When +the hue-and-cry had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He +would go out of a night and post letters to himself, or better still, +postcards, which his landlady would read. Postcards from cheery friends, +from a sister, from a brother. During the day he would stay in and +write, as became a man who described himself as a journalist.</p> + +<p>Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, +bathing and boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. +One might mean life, and the other death. Which?</p> + +<p>His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So +many people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely +pass unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up +and nervously paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it +meant so much, as he had thought.</p> + +<p>The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out "one," followed +immediately by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the +clock, it seemed the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He +wondered whether the thing lying by the far side of the table heard it. +He wondered—-</p> + +<p>He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board +creaked loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a +little way, but without looking out, listened. The house was so still +that he could hear the ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He +opened the door a little wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a +sudden sharp outcry on the stairs, and he drew back into the room and +stood trembling before he had quite realized that the noise had been made +by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but what had disturbed it?</p> + +<p>There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became +certain that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the +boards creak again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The +silence and suspense were frightful. Suppose that the something which +had been Fletcher waited for him in the darkness outside?</p> + +<p>He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what +was beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and +he peered about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher's +room opposite close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the +door really turn?</p> + +<p>In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that +nothing came out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark +stairs. Then his jaw fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The +library door, which he distinctly remembered closing, and which, +moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up stairs to his room, now +stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that there was a +rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly and +unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall.</p> + +<p>He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became +aware of his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With +a sudden impulse he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it +violently, turned the key in the lock, and ran madly down the stairs.</p> + +<p>A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the +panels of the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them +sounded the loud hoarse cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to +the hall, stopped with his hand on the balustrade and listened. The +beating ceased, and a man's voice cried out loudly for God's sake to let +him out.</p> + +<p>At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. +He had left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some +wandering bird of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go +now. No need to hide either from the hangman's rope or the felon's cell. +The fool above had saved him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as +the prisoner in his furious efforts to escape wrenched the handle from +the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" he cried, loudly.</p> + +<p>"Let me out!" cried a frantic voice. "For God's sake, open the door! +There's something here."</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are!" shouted Burleigh, sternly. "Stay where you are! +If you come out, I'll shoot you like a dog!"</p> + +<p>The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh +raised his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man's chest, fired +through the panel.</p> + +<p>The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh +fled hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted +loudly for assistance.</p> + +<p>It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in +the road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with +incoherent explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside +the library door. The prisoner was still inside, still trying to +demolish the lock of the sturdy oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the +key, but the lock was too damaged to admit of its moving. The sergeant +drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled himself at the door and burst +it open.</p> + +<p>He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of +light from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man +lurking behind the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the +three men were locked together.</p> + +<p>Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself +for the scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men +and the sharp catch of the prisoner's breath, there was no noise. A +helmet fell off and bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; +there was a sobbing snarl and a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the +floor; the other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing +figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas.</p> + +<p>The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He +was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and +gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set +fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut +and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The +cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had +left Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we +were handy."</p> + +<p>The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the +pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes +altogether. By —, I've not."</p> + +<p>The sergeant regarded him curiously.</p> + +<p>"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't +make any difference."</p> + +<p>The man shook and began to whimper.</p> + +<p>"It was 'ere when I come," he said, eagerly; "take that down, sir. I've +only just come, and it was 'ere when I come. I tried to get away then, +but I was locked in."</p> + +<p>"What was?" demanded the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, desperately.</p> + +<p>The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away +the cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the +wall.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said the sergeant, catching him; "all right. Turn your +head away."</p> + +<p>He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but +he drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited +patiently. There was no hurry.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, sir?" he asked at length.</p> + +<p>"My friend—Fletcher," said Burleigh, with an effort. "We lived +together." He turned to the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"You damned villain!"</p> + +<p>"He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen," said the prisoner, +strenuously. "He was on the floor dead, and when I see 'im, I tried to +get out. S' 'elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn't +ha' called out if I'd killed him."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the sergeant, gruffly; "you'd better hold your tongue, +you know."</p> + +<p>"You keep quiet," urged the constable.</p> + +<p>The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man's head.</p> + +<p>"I 'ad nothing to do with it," repeated the man on the floor. "I 'ad +nothing to do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I've only been +in the place ten minutes; put that down, sir."</p> + +<p>The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese +sword, held it at him.</p> + +<p>"I've never seen it before," said the prisoner, struggling.</p> + +<p>"It used to hang on the wall," said Burleigh. "He must have snatched it +down. It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago."</p> + +<p>"How long?" inquired the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour," was the reply. "I went to my +bedroom."</p> + +<p>The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly.</p> + +<p>"You done it!" he cried, fiercely. "You done it, and you want me to +swing for it."</p> + +<p>"That 'll do," said the indignant constable.</p> + +<p>The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again.</p> + +<p>"You hold your tongue, you devil!" he said, menacingly.</p> + +<p>He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took +it in his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh.</p> + +<p>"Feeling better, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The other nodded faintly.</p> + +<p>"You won't want this thing any more," said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from +him gently, put it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You've hurt your wrist, sir," he said, anxiously.</p> + +<p>Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other.</p> + +<p>"This one, I think," said the sergeant. "I saw it just now."</p> + +<p>He took the other's wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the +grip of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket—something hard and +cold, which snapped suddenly on Burleigh's wrists, and held them fast.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the sergeant; "keep quiet."</p> + +<p>The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him +furiously.</p> + +<p>"Take these things off!" he choked. "Have you gone mad? Take them +off!"</p> + +<p>"All in good time," said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"Take them off!" cried Burleigh again.</p> + +<p>For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily +at his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the +room and pushed him into a chair.</p> + +<p>"Collins," he said, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said the astonished subordinate.</p> + +<p>"Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!" said the other. +"This man is not dead!"</p> + +<p>As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and +tried to pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, +watched like one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the +breathless surgeon, saw the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw +the eyes of the dying man open and the lips of the dying man move. He +was conscious that the sergeant made some notes in a pocket-book, and +that all three men eyed him closely. The sergeant stepped toward him and +placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient to the touch, he arose and +went with him out into the night.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + +***** This file should be named 12126-h.htm or 12126-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/2/12126/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In The Library + The Lady of the Barge and Others, Part 6. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: April 22, 2004 [EBook #12126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +THE LADY OF THE BARGE + +AND OTHER STORIES + +By W. W. Jacobs + + + + +IN THE LIBRARY + + +The fire had burnt low in the library, for the night was wet and warm. +It was now little more than a grey shell, and looked desolate. Trayton +Burleigh, still hot, rose from his armchair, and turning out one of the +gas-jets, took a cigar from a box on a side-table and resumed his seat +again. + +The apartment, which was on the third floor at the back of the house, was +a combination of library, study, and smoke-room, and was the daily +despair of the old housekeeper who, with the assistance of one servant, +managed the house. It was a bachelor establishment, and had been left to +Trayton Burleigh and James Fletcher by a distant connection of both men +some ten years before. + +Trayton Burleigh sat back in his chair watching the smoke of his cigar +through half-closed eyes. Occasionally he opened them a little wider and +glanced round the comfortable, well-furnished room, or stared with a cold +gleam of hatred at Fletcher as he sat sucking stolidly at his brier pipe. +It was a comfortable room and a valuable house, half of which belonged to +Trayton Burleigh; and yet he was to leave it in the morning and become a +rogue and a wanderer over the face of the earth. James Fletcher had said +so. James Fletcher, with the pipe still between his teeth and speaking +from one corner of his mouth only, had pronounced his sentence. + +"It hasn't occurred to you, I suppose," said Burleigh, speaking suddenly, +"that I might refuse your terms." + +"No," said Fletcher, simply. + +Burleigh took a great mouthful of smoke and let it roll slowly out. + +"I am to go out and leave you in possession?" he continued. "You will +stay here sole proprietor of the house; you will stay at the office sole +owner and representative of the firm? You are a good hand at a deal, +James Fletcher." + +"I am an honest man," said Fletcher, "and to raise sufficient money to +make your defalcations good will not by any means leave me the gainer, as +you very well know." + +"There is no necessity to borrow," began Burleigh, eagerly. "We can pay +the interest easily, and in course of time make the principal good +without a soul being the wiser." + +"That you suggested before," said Fletcher, "and my answer is the same. +I will be no man's confederate in dishonesty; I will raise every penny at +all costs, and save the name of the firm--and yours with it--but I will +never have you darken the office again, or sit in this house after +to-night." + +"You won't," cried Burleigh, starting up in a frenzy of rage. + +"I won't," said Fletcher. "You can choose the alternative: disgrace and +penal servitude. Don't stand over me; you won't frighten me, I can +assure you. Sit down." + +"You have arranged so many things in your kindness," said Burleigh, +slowly, resuming his seat again, "have you arranged how I am to live?" + +"You have two strong hands, and health," replied Fletcher. "I will give +you the two hundred pounds I mentioned, and after that you must look out +for yourself. You can take it now." + +He took a leather case from his breast pocket, and drew out a roll of +notes. Burleigh, watching him calmly, stretched out his hand and took +them from the table. Then he gave way to a sudden access of rage, and +crumpling them in his hand, threw them into a corner of the room. +Fletcher smoked on. + +"Mrs. Marl is out?" said Burleigh, suddenly. + +Fletcher nodded. + +"She will be away the night," he said, slowly; "and Jane too; they have +gone together somewhere, but they will be back at half-past eight in the +morning." + +"You are going to let me have one more breakfast in the old place, then," +said Burleigh. "Half-past eight, half-past----" + +He rose from his chair again. This time Fletcher took his pipe from his +mouth and watched him closely. Burleigh stooped, and picking up the +notes, placed them in his pocket. + +"If I am to be turned adrift, it shall not be to leave you here," he +said, in a thick voice. + +He crossed over and shut the door; as he turned back Fletcher rose from +his chair and stood confronting him. Burleigh put his hand to the wall, +and drawing a small Japanese sword from its sheath of carved ivory, +stepped slowly toward him. + +"I give you one chance, Fletcher," he said, grimly. "You are a man of +your word. Hush this up and let things be as they were before, and you +are safe." + +"Put that down," said Fletcher, sharply. + +"By ---, I mean what I say!" cried the other. + +"I mean what I said!" answered Fletcher. + +He looked round at the last moment for a weapon, then he turned suddenly +at a sharp sudden pain, and saw Burleigh's clenched fist nearly touching +his breast-bone. The hand came away from his breast again, and something +with it. It went a long way off. Trayton Burleigh suddenly went to a +great distance and the room darkened. It got quite dark, and Fletcher, +with an attempt to raise his hands, let them fall to his side instead, +and fell in a heap to the floor. + +He was so still that Burleigh could hardly realize that it was all over, +and stood stupidly waiting for him to rise again. Then he took out his +handkerchief as though to wipe the sword, and thinking better of it, put +it back into his pocket again, and threw the weapon on to the floor. + +The body of Fletcher lay where it had fallen, the white face turned up to +the gas. In life he had been a commonplace-looking man, not to say +vulgar; now Burleigh, with a feeling of nausea, drew back toward the +door, until the body was hidden by the table, and relieved from the +sight, he could think more clearly. He looked down carefully and +examined his clothes and his boots. Then he crossed the room again, and +with his face averted, turned out the gas. Something seemed to stir in +the darkness, and with a faint cry he blundered toward the door before he +had realized that it was the clock. It struck twelve. + +[Illustration: BURLEIGH, WITH A FEELING OF NAUSEA, DREW BACK TOWARD THE +DOOOR.] + +He stood at the head of the stairs trying to recover himself; trying to +think. The gas on the landing below, the stairs and the furniture, all +looked so prosaic and familiar that he could not realize what had +occurred. He walked slowly down and turned the light out. The darkness +of the upper part of the house was now almost appalling, and in a sudden +panic he ran down stairs into the lighted hall, and snatching a hat from +the stand, went to the door and walked down to the gate. + +Except for one window the neighbouring houses were in darkness, and the +lamps shone tip a silent street. There was a little rain in the air, and +the muddy road was full of pebbles. He stood at the gate trying to screw +up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming +slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings. + +The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found +himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape +glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble. +Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out? +Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing +there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not +feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a +remark as to the weather. + +Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing, +he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship +should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by +the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and +went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on +the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way, +and sitting down on his bed, tried to think. + +He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small +notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained, +and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such +articles of jewellery as he possessed. + +The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the +fear of death. + +With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first +moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had +often read of people of hasty temper, evading the police for a time, and +eventually falling into their hands for lack of the most elementary +common sense. He had heard it said that they always made some stupid +blunder, left behind them some damning clue. He took his revolver from a +drawer and saw that it was loaded. If the worst came to the worst, he +would die quickly. + +Eight hours' start; two hundred odd pounds. He would take lodgings at +first in some populous district, and let the hair on his face grow. When +the hue-and-cry had ceased, he would go abroad and start life again. He +would go out of a night and post letters to himself, or better still, +postcards, which his landlady would read. Postcards from cheery friends, +from a sister, from a brother. During the day he would stay in and +write, as became a man who described himself as a journalist. + +Or suppose he went to the sea? Who would look for him in flannels, +bathing and boating with ordinary happy mortals? He sat and pondered. +One might mean life, and the other death. Which? + +His face burned as he thought of the responsibility of the choice. So +many people went to the sea at that time of year that he would surely +pass unnoticed. But at the sea one might meet acquaintances. He got up +and nervously paced the room again. It was not so simple, now that it +meant so much, as he had thought. + +The sharp little clock on the mantel-piece rang out "one," followed +immediately by the deeper note of that in the library. He thought of the +clock, it seemed the only live thing in that room, and shuddered. He +wondered whether the thing lying by the far side of the table heard it. +He wondered---- + +He started and held his breath with fear. Somewhere down stairs a board +creaked loudly, then another. He went to the door, and opening it a +little way, but without looking out, listened. The house was so still +that he could hear the ticking of the old clock in the kitchen below. He +opened the door a little wider and peeped out. As he did so there was a +sudden sharp outcry on the stairs, and he drew back into the room and +stood trembling before he had quite realized that the noise had been made +by the cat. The cry was unmistakable; but what had disturbed it? + +There was silence again, and he drew near the door once more. He became +certain that something was moving stealthily on the stairs. He heard the +boards creak again, and once the rails of the balustrade rattled. The +silence and suspense were frightful. Suppose that the something which +had been Fletcher waited for him in the darkness outside? + +He fought his fears down, and opening the door, determined to see what +was beyond. The light from his room streamed out on to the landing, and +he peered about fearfully. Was it fancy, or did the door of Fletcher's +room opposite close as he looked? Was it fancy, or did the handle of the +door really turn? + +In perfect silence, and watching the door as he moved, to see that +nothing came out and followed him, he proceeded slowly down the dark +stairs. Then his jaw fell, and he turned sick and faint again. The +library door, which he distinctly remembered closing, and which, +moreover, he had seen was closed when he went up stairs to his room, now +stood open some four or five inches. He fancied that there was a +rustling inside, but his brain refused to be certain. Then plainly and +unmistakably he heard a chair pushed against the wall. + +He crept to the door, hoping to pass it before the thing inside became +aware of his presence. Something crept stealthily about the room. With +a sudden impulse he caught the handle of the door, and, closing it +violently, turned the key in the lock, and ran madly down the stairs. + +A fearful cry sounded from the room, and a heavy hand beat upon the +panels of the door. The house rang with the blows, but above them +sounded the loud hoarse cries of human fear. Burleigh, half-way down to +the hall, stopped with his hand on the balustrade and listened. The +beating ceased, and a man's voice cried out loudly for God's sake to let +him out. + +At once Burleigh saw what had happened and what it might mean for him. +He had left the hall door open after his visit to the front, and some +wandering bird of the night had entered the house. No need for him to go +now. No need to hide either from the hangman's rope or the felon's cell. +The fool above had saved him. He turned and ran up stairs again just as +the prisoner in his furious efforts to escape wrenched the handle from +the door. + +"Who's there?" he cried, loudly. + +"Let me out!" cried a frantic voice. "For God's sake, open the door! +There's something here." + +"Stay where you are!" shouted Burleigh, sternly. "Stay where you are! +If you come out, I'll shoot you like a dog!" + +The only response was a smashing blow on the lock of the door. Burleigh +raised his pistol, and aiming at the height of a man's chest, fired +through the panel. + +The report and the crashing of the wood made one noise, succeeded by an +unearthly stillness, then the noise of a window hastily opened. Burleigh +fled hastily down the stairs, and flinging wide the hall door, shouted +loudly for assistance. + +It happened that a sergeant and the constable on the beat had just met in +the road. They came toward the house at a run. Burleigh, with +incoherent explanations, ran up stairs before them, and halted outside +the library door. The prisoner was still inside, still trying to +demolish the lock of the sturdy oaken door. Burleigh tried to turn the +key, but the lock was too damaged to admit of its moving. The sergeant +drew back, and, shoulder foremost, hurled himself at the door and burst +it open. + +He stumbled into the room, followed by the constable, and two shafts of +light from the lanterns at their belts danced round the room. A man +lurking behind the door made a dash for it, and the next instant the +three men were locked together. + +Burleigh, standing in the doorway, looked on coldly, reserving himself +for the scene which was to follow. Except for the stumbling of the men +and the sharp catch of the prisoner's breath, there was no noise. A +helmet fell off and bounced and rolled along the floor. The men fell; +there was a sobbing snarl and a sharp click. A tall figure rose from the +floor; the other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing +figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas. + +The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He +was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and +gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor-a short, thick-set +fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut +and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The +cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had +left Fletcher. + +"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we +were handy." + +The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror +in his eyes. + +"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the +pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes +altogether. By ---, I've not." + +The sergeant regarded him curiously. + +"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't +make any difference." + +The man shook and began to whimper. + +"It was 'ere when I come," he said, eagerly; "take that down, sir. I've +only just come, and it was 'ere when I come. I tried to get away then, +but I was locked in." + +"What was?" demanded the sergeant. + +"That," he said, desperately. + +The sergeant, following the direction of the terror-stricken black eyes, +stooped by the table. Then, with a sharp exclamation, he dragged away +the cloth. Burleigh, with a sharp cry of horror, reeled back against the +wall. + +"All right, sir," said the sergeant, catching him; "all right. Turn your +head away." + +He pushed him into a chair, and crossing the room, poured out a glass of +whiskey and brought it to him. The glass rattled against his teeth, but +he drank it greedily, and then groaned faintly. The sergeant waited +patiently. There was no hurry. + +"Who is it, sir?" he asked at length. + +"My friend--Fletcher," said Burleigh, with an effort. "We lived +together." He turned to the prisoner. + +"You damned villain!" + +"He was dead when I come in the room, gentlemen," said the prisoner, +strenuously. "He was on the floor dead, and when I see 'im, I tried to +get out. S' 'elp me he was. You heard me call out, sir. I shouldn't +ha' called out if I'd killed him." + +"All right," said the sergeant, gruffly; "you'd better hold your tongue, +you know." + +"You keep quiet," urged the constable. + +The sergeant knelt down and raised the dead man's head. + +"I 'ad nothing to do with it," repeated the man on the floor. "I 'ad +nothing to do with it. I never thought of such a thing. I've only been +in the place ten minutes; put that down, sir." + +The sergeant groped with his left hand, and picking up the Japanese +sword, held it at him. + +"I've never seen it before," said the prisoner, struggling. + +"It used to hang on the wall," said Burleigh. "He must have snatched it +down. It was on the wall when I left Fletcher a little while ago." + +"How long?" inquired the sergeant. + +"Perhaps an hour, perhaps half an hour," was the reply. "I went to my +bedroom." + +The man on the floor twisted his head and regarded him narrowly. + +"You done it!" he cried, fiercely. "You done it, and you want me to +swing for it." + +"That 'll do," said the indignant constable. + +The sergeant let his burden gently to the floor again. + +"You hold your tongue, you devil!" he said, menacingly. + +He crossed to the table and poured a little spirit into a glass and took +it in his hand. Then he put it down again and crossed to Burleigh. + +"Feeling better, sir?" he asked. + +The other nodded faintly. + +"You won't want this thing any more," said the sergeant. + +He pointed to the pistol which the other still held, and taking it from +him gently, put it into his pocket. + +"You've hurt your wrist, sir," he said, anxiously. + +Burleigh raised one hand sharply, and then the other. + +"This one, I think," said the sergeant. "I saw it just now." + +He took the other's wrists in his hand, and suddenly holding them in the +grip of a vice, whipped out something from his pocket--something hard and +cold, which snapped suddenly on Burleigh's wrists, and held them fast. + +"That's right," said the sergeant; "keep quiet." + +The constable turned round in amaze; Burleigh sprang toward him +furiously. + +"Take these things off!" he choked. "Have you gone mad? Take them +off!" + +"All in good time," said the sergeant. + +"Take them off!" cried Burleigh again. + +For answer the sergeant took him in a powerful grip, and staring steadily +at his white face and gleaming eyes, forced him to the other end of the +room and pushed him into a chair. + +"Collins," he said, sharply. + +"Sir?" said the astonished subordinate. + +"Run to the doctor at the corner hard as you can run!" said the other. +"This man is not dead!" + +As the man left the room the sergeant took up the glass of spirits he had +poured out, and kneeling down by Fletcher again, raised his head and +tried to pour a little down his throat. Burleigh, sitting in his corner, +watched like one in a trance. He saw the constable return with the +breathless surgeon, saw the three men bending over Fletcher, and then saw +the eyes of the dying man open and the lips of the dying man move. He +was conscious that the sergeant made some notes in a pocket-book, and +that all three men eyed him closely. The sergeant stepped toward him and +placed his hand on his shoulder, and obedient to the touch, he arose and +went with him out into the night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In The Library, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE LIBRARY *** + +***** This file should be named 12126.txt or 12126.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/1/2/12126/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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