“Ugh—ugh! Sure, the lock an’ I be a pair, for stiff joints.”
The door creak’d back against me, and a shaft of light pierc’d the darkness.
Within the threshold, with his back to me, stood a grey-bearded servant, and totter’d so that the lantern shook in his hand. It sham’d me to lift a pike against one so weak. Instead, I dropp’d it with a clatter, and leap’d forward. The old fellow jumped like a boy, turn’d, and fac’d me with dropp’d jaw, which gave me an opportunity to thrust four or five bullets, not over roughly, into his mouth. Then, having turn’d him on his back, I strapp’d Delia’s kerchief tight across his mouth, and took the lantern from his hand.
Not a word was said. Sure, the poor old man’s wits were shaken, for he lay meek as a mouse, and star’d up at me, while I unstrapp’d his belt and bound his feet with it. His hands I truss’d up behind him with his own neckcloth; and catching up the lantern, left him there. I lock’d the door after me, and slip’d the key into my pocket as I sprang up the stairs beyond.
But here a light was shining, so once more I extinguish’d my lantern. The steps ended in a long passage, with a handsome lamp hanging at the uttermost end, and beneath this lamp I stepp’d into a place that fill’d me with astonishment.
’Twas, I could not doubt, the entrance hall of the governor’s house. An oak door, very massive, fronted me; to left and right were two smaller doors, that plainly led into apartments of the house. Also to my left, and nigher than the door on that side, ran up a broad staircase, carpeted and brightly lit all the way, so that a very blaze fell on me as I stood. Under the first flight, close to my left shoulder, was a line of pegs with many cloaks and hats depending therefrom. Underfoot, I remember, the hall was richly tiled in squares of red and white marble.
Now clearly, this was a certain place wherein to be caught. “But,” thought I, “behind one of the two doors, to left or to right, must lie the governor’s room of business; and in that room—as likely as not—his keys.” Which door, then, should I choose? For to stay here was madness.
While I stood pondering, the doubt was answer’d for me. From behind the right-hand door came a burst of laughter and clinking of glasses, on top of which a man’s voice—the voice of Colonel Essex—call’d out for more wine.
I took a step to the door on the left, paus’d for a second or two with my hand on the latch, and then cautiously push’d it open. The chamber was empty.
’Twas a long room, with a light burning on a square centre table, and around it a mass of books, loose papers and documents strewn, seemingly without order. The floor too was litter’d with them. Clearly this was the Colonel’s office.