The last door was passed, and he stood at the ledge looking out into the moonlight. How quiet everything was! Far off, across the playground, he saw a few lights burning in the different masters' houses; but the Doctor's, in a wing of which he was, was quite dark. Of course, he remembered, the Doctor was out. How fortunate! and the kitchen-windows looked the other way. The roof of the boot-house was about six feet below the window-ledge. At the corner stood a water-butt, and, against that, a large empty box turned up on end. Everything appeared to be put there to further his escape. The boot-house stood in a yard, which opened into Dr Palmer's garden, and from that he knew escape would be easy enough.
He had just tied his boots together, and by the aid of his pocket-handkerchief dropped them on the roof. His hands were already on the window-ledge, and one leg over, when he heard a footstep on the stairs below. What should he do? To stay as he was, motionless, would be fatal. He was full in the moonlight. To crouch down in the corner, where the moonlight did not shine, might possibly screen him. Not a second was to be lost. His resolution was formed. Over went the other leg; and, hanging with his fingers to the outside of the window-ledge, afraid to drop to the roof lest the noise should be heard, he clung trembling, while he heard the step ascending to the top dormitory. He must be off,—right away, in a few minutes; for it would not now be long before he was missed. Down he dropped the remaining distance, picked up his boots, scrambled down the water-butt, on to the box, and there he was safe on the ground at last. The gate from the yard into the doctor's garden was always open. He ran noiselessly through, on his bootless feet, into the garden, and across the lawn; and, skirting along where the laurels cast a dark pathway of shadow over the moonlit grass, he made for a corner of the garden-wall, near which the high road ran, and which some few days ago he had noticed was either lower than elsewhere, or somewhat tumbled down. Into the laurels he darted, and soon found the spot he wished; and, then knowing he was quite hidden, and, moreover, in a place where no one would dream of searching for him, he sat down to regain his breath; and, as he put on his boots, listened eagerly to catch the slightest sound that might warn him that his absence was discovered. Nor was it more than two or three minutes before he heard voices in the playground, and the unlocking of various doors, and lights shone suddenly in several windows.
"There he was, safe on the ground at last."—WILTON SCHOOL, page 98
No more waiting was to be thought of. He must go on, if he meant really to escape; or be caught, and so have all the trouble and fright for nothing, or at least not for nothing. He knew if he were caught, his stay at school would only be a very short one; and better anything than be caned, and afterwards expelled.
So he scrambled up the garden-wall, and his eyes brightened as he saw the hard, highroad that would lead him away from this place of torture.
To right the road ran down towards the village: to left it led to the school, and to the entrance of Doctor Palmer's house; and, further on, to the neighbouring town.
He was preparing to jump down, when again the sound of a footstep checked and terrified him. If it were coming up from the village, the passer-by would of course see him. If it were coming from the school, the same result would be fatal to him. The only hope was, that it was a retreating step of some one who had passed while his attention was drawn off by the noise of those who were searching for him.
He stretched out his head and looked down the road. No one there. So far he was safe. He looked up the road; and there was a well-known figure, magnified and looking very gaunt in the moonlight. It was the Doctor. But—and Harry could scarcely believe his eyes for joy—he was going away from where his runaway pupil crouched trembling on the wall. He must have passed just before he climbed up. The Doctor seemed to be walking so perversely slow, actually strolling, Harry thought. When would he turn the corner?