“We don’t think,” observed the detectives.
“Well, I won’t say any more, as I shall be only subjecting myself to insults,” cried the Jew. “Rachel!” he said, in continuation, calling to his wife, who was in one of the upstair rooms. “Don’t be alarmed, tear. Two strange shentlemen are coming upstairs. They won’t hurt you. Don’t be alarmed—it’s all right, they know their business, and I know mine.”
“He must have got clear off by this time, I should suppose,” muttered the Jew to himself. “If he hasn’t, vell, the Lord help him, for I can’t.”
Charles Peace, after leaving the back parlour, at once made for the topmost story of the house. In one of the back rooms he found a double dormer window. He passed through this, closed it carefully after him, and then gained the roof.
He must have considered himself hardly pressed, for after going along the slates he got into another house through the window, which he also closed after him.
The room in which he now found himself was unoccupied, but upon descending below he came across a woman, who was the landlady of the habitation. She was greatly surprised at beholding Mr. Peace, who, however, put the best face on the matter.
“My dear madam,” said he, “I am sure from your appearance that you are not one to refuse succour to a persecuted man. The police are after me, and I have contrived to elude them for the present. Will you befriend me?”
“How can I do that?”
“By letting me remain here for awhile.”
“But you may have committed some dreadful crime, and if such be the case I shall get into trouble for harbouring you.”