Dead Man's Rock Part 23

I nodded, swung open the door, and stepped out into the darkness.

Even as I did so, I heard one quick step at my left side, saw a faint gleam, and felt myself violently struck upon the chest. For a moment I staggered back, and then heard Tom rush past me and deal one cras.h.i.+ng blow.

"Run, run! Down the pa.s.sage, quick!"

In an instant we were tearing through the black darkness to the outer door, but in that instant I could see, through the open door behind, in the glare of all the candles, the figure of the yellow woman still sitting motionless and calm.

We gained the door, and plunged into the bright daylight. Up the alley we tore, out into the street, across it and down another, then through a perfect maze of by-lanes. Tom led and I followed behind, panting and clutching my bursting pockets lest the coin should tumble out. Still we tore on, although not a footstep followed us, nor had we seen a soul since Tom struck my a.s.sailant down. Spent and breathless at last we emerged upon the Strand, and here Tom pulled up.

"The streets are wonderfully quiet," said he.

I thought for a moment and then said, "It is Sunday morning."

Scarcely were the words out of my mouth when I heard something ring upon the pavement beside me. I stooped, and picked up--the Golden Clasp.

"Well," said I, "this is strange."

"Not at all," said Tom. "Look at your breast-pocket."

I looked and saw a short slit across my breast just above the heart.

As I put my hand up, a sovereign, and then another, rolled clinking on to the pavement.

Tom picked them up, and handing them to me, remarked--

"Jasper, you may thank Heaven to-day, if you are in a mood for it.

You have had a narrow escape."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, that you would be a dead man now had you not carried that piece of metal in your breast-pocket. Let me see it for a moment."

We looked at it together, and there surely enough, almost in the centre of the clasp, was a deep dent. We were silent for a minute or so, and then Tom said--

"Let us get home. It would not do for us to be seen with this money about us."

We crossed the Strand, and turned off it to the door of our lodgings.

There I stopped.

"Tom, I am not coming in. I shall take a long walk and a bathe to get this fearful night out of my head. You can take the money upstairs, and put it away somewhere in hiding. Stay, I will keep a coin or two. Take the rest with you."

Tom looked up at the gleam of suns.h.i.+ne that touched the chimney-pots above, and decided.

"Well, for my part, I am going to bed; and so will you if you are wise."

"No. I will be back this evening, so let the fatted calf be prepared. I must get out of this for a while."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, anywhere. I don't care. Up the river, perhaps."

"You don't wish me to go with you?"

"No, I had rather be alone. Tom, I have been a fool. I led you into a hole whence nothing but a marvellous chance has delivered us, and I owe you an apology. And--Tom, I also owe you my life."

"Not to me, Jasper; to the Clasp."

"To you," I insisted. "Tom, I have been a thoughtless fool, and-- Tom, that was a splendid blow of yours."

He laughed, and ran upstairs, while I turned and gloomily sauntered down the deserted street.

CHAPTER III.

TELLS AN OLD STORY IN THE TRADITIONAL MANNER.

When Tom asked me where I was going, I had suggested an excursion up the river; though, to tell the truth, this answer had come with the question. Be that as it may, the afternoon of that same Sunday found me on the left bank of the Thames between Streatley and Pangbourne; found me, with my boat moored idly by, stretched on my back amid the undergrowth, and easefully staring upward through a trellis-work of branches into the heavens. I had been lying there a full hour wondering vaguely of my last night's adventure, listening to the spring-time chorus of the birds, lazily and listlessly watching a bough that bent and waved its fan of foliage across my face, or the twinkle of the tireless kingfisher flas.h.i.+ng down-stream in loops of light, when a blackbird lit on a branch hard by my left hand, and, all unconscious of an audience, began to pour forth his rapture to the day.

Lying there I could spy his black body and yellow bill, and drink in his song with dreamy content. So sweetly and delicately was he fluting, that by degrees slumber crept gently and unperceived upon my tired brain; and as the health-giving distillation of the melody stole upon my parched senses, I fell into a deep sleep.

What was that? Music? Yes, but not the song of my friend the black-bird, not the mellow note that had wooed me to slumber and haunted my dreams. Music? Yes, but the voice was human, and the song articulate. I started, and rose upon my elbow to listen.

The voice was human beyond a doubt--sweetly human: it was that of a girl singing. But where? I looked around and saw n.o.body. Yet the singer could not be far off, for the words, though softly and gently sung, dwelt clearly and distinctly upon my ear. Still half asleep, I sank back again and listened.

"Flower of the May, Saw ye one pa.s.s?

'Love pa.s.sed to-day While the dawn was, O, but the eyes of him shone as a gla.s.s.'"

The low, delicate notes came tremulous through the thicket.

The blackbird was hushed, the trees overhead swayed soundlessly, and when the voice fell and paused, so deep was the silence that involuntarily I held my breath and waited. Presently it broke out again--

"Bird of the thorn, What his attire?

'Lo! it was torn, Marred with the mire, And but the eyes of him sparkled with fire.'"

Again the voice died away in soft cadences, and again all was silence. I rose once more upon my elbow, and gazed into the green depths of the wood; but saw only the blackbird perched upon a twig and listening with head askew.

"Flower of the May, Bird of the--"

The voice quivered, trailed off and stopped. I heard a rustling of leaves to the right, and then the same voice broke out in prose, in very agitated and piteous prose--"Oh, my boat! my boat! What shall I do?"

I jumped to my feet, caught a glimpse of something white, and of two startled but appealing eyes, then tore down to the bank.

There, already twenty yards downstream, placidly floated the boat, its painter trailing from the bows, and its whole behaviour pointing to a leisurely but firm resolve to visit Pangbourne.

My own boat was close at hand. But when did hot youth behave with thought in a like case? I did as ninety-nine in a hundred would do.

I took off my coat, kicked off my shoes, and as the voice cried, "Oh, please, do not trouble," plunged into the water. The refractory boat, once on its way, was in no great hurry, and allowed itself to be overtaken with great good-humour. I clambered in over the stern, caught up the sculls which lay across the thwarts, and, dripping but triumphant, brought my captive back to sh.o.r.e.

"How can I thank you?"

If my face was red as I looked up, it must be remembered that I had to stoop to make the boat fast. If my eyes had a tendency to look down again, it must be borne in mind that the water from my hair was dripping into them. They gazed for a moment, however, and this was what they saw:--