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+*** 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 ***