I sprang into the garden and held forth a hand to Delia. “In one moment, mistress!” call’d she, and in one moment was hurrying with me across the dark garden beds. As she fitted the key to the garden gate, I heard the voice again.
“De-lia!”
’Twas drown’d in a—wild rat-a-tat! on the street door, and the shouts of many voices. We were close press’d.
“Now, Jack—to the right for our lives! Ah, these clumsy skirts!”
We turn’d into the lane and rac’d down it. For my part, I swore to drown myself in Avon rather than let those troopers retake me. I heard their outcries about the house behind us, as we stumbled over the frozen rubbish heaps with which the lane was bestrewn.
“What’s our direction?” panted I, catching Delia’s hand to help her along.
“To the left now—for the river.”
We struck into a narrow side street; and with that heard a watchman bawl—
“Past nine o’ the night, an’ a—!”
The shock of our collision sent him to finish his say in the gutter.