|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 41
"You say that someone heard the sound of the shot?" I asked suddenly.
"Several people," replied Bristol; "but no one knows, or no one
will say, from what direction it came. I shall go on with the
inquiry, of course, and cross-examine every soul in Wyatt's
Buildings. Meanwhile, I'm open to confess that I am beaten."
In the velvet sky countless points blazed tropically. The hum of
the traffic in Waterloo Road reached us only in a muffled way.
Sordidness lay beneath us, but up there under the heavens we seemed
removed from it as any Babylonian astronomer communing with the
stars.
When, some ten minutes later, I passed out into the noise of
Waterloo Road, I left behind me an unsolved mystery and took with
me a great dread; for I knew that the quest of the sacred slipper
was not ended, I knew that another tragedy was added to its history
--and I feared to surmise what the future might hold for all of us.
CHAPTER XVII
THE WOMAN WITH THE BASKET
Deep in thought respecting the inexplicable nature of this latest
mystery, I turned in the direction of the bridge, and leaving behind
me an ever-swelling throng at the gate of Wyatt's Buildings,
proceeded westward.
The death of the dwarf had lifted the case into the realms of the
marvellous, and I noted nothing of the bustle about me, for mentally
I was still surveying that hunched-up body which had fallen out of
empty space.
Then in upon my preoccupation burst a woman's scream!
I aroused myself from reverie, looking about to right and left.
Evidently I had been walking slowly, for I was less than a hundred
yards from Wyatt's Buildings, and hard by the entrance to an
uninviting alley from which I thought the scream had proceeded.
And as I hesitated, for I had no desire to become involved in a
drunken brawl, again came the shrill scream: "Help! help!"
I cannot say if I was the only passer-by who heard the cry;
certainly I was the only one who responded to it. I ran down the
narrow street, which was practically deserted, and heard windows
thrown up as I passed for the cries for help continued.
Just beyond a patch of light cast by a street lamp a scene was being
enacted strange enough at any time and in any place, but doubly
singular at that hour of the night, or early morning, in a lane off
the Waterloo Road.
An old woman, from whose hand a basket of provisions had fallen,
was struggling in the grasp of a tall Oriental! He was evidently
trying to stifle her screams and at the same time to pinion her
arms behind her!
I perceived that there was more in this scene than met the eye.
Oriental footpads are rarities in the purlieus of Waterloo Road.
So much was evident; and since I carried a short, sharp argument in
my pocket, I hastened to advance it.
At the sight of the gleaming revolver barrel the man, who was
dressed in dark clothes and wore a turban, turned and ran swiftly
off. I had scarce a glimpse of his pallid brown face ere he was
gone, nor did the thought of pursuit enter my mind. I turned to
the old woman, who was dressed in shabby black and who was
rearranging her thick veil in an oddly composed manner, considering
the nature of the adventure that had befallen her.
She picked up her basket, and turned away. Needless to say I was
rather shocked at her callous ingratitude, for she offered no word of
thanks, did not even glance in my direction, but made off hurriedly
toward Waterloo Road.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|