The sound of some one running downstairs reached his ears; next it came from the oak-floored hall, diminishing; then a door—possibly one with a spring—went shut with a smash. Silence for a brief space, then noise from the back of the house. It was now or never.
Up the steps he bounded, yet halted to clean his boots on the mat. At that moment he thought he heard a cry, but nothing could stay him now. The shining tool in his clutch was unnecessary: the handle turned, the door opened. He sped across the hall and upstairs. Lights were burning in Christopher's old room; the pendulum of the clock scintillated as it swung. The fire burned cheerfully. There was a smell of Turkish tobacco. A book lay open on the writing table. Bullard noticed all these things and for an instant wavered and wondered. Without further pause, however, he placed the Green Box in its old refuge, carefully closed the drawer, and rose to go. Just for a moment the clock held him. Then he shook his fist at it and bolted. Closing the front door noiselessly after him, he went softly down the steps and across the gravel till he stepped upon the grass border, when he made swiftly, recklessly, for the gates.
A yard from them he all but fell over Flitch. That gentleman was lying face downwards, in a perfect agony of terror, scrabbling the gravel, mumbling to the Almighty to save him.
Bullard shook him, whispering savagely: "Get up, you fool! It's all right; we've done the trick—"
"O God, don't let his ghost get me! He was the first I ever killed, O
God, and I wanted the money bad—"
"Curse you, Flitch! What the devil's the matter? If you won't come now, I must leave you to get caught—and that's the end of you!" Bullard gripped him by the collar and dragged him to his knees.
And now Caw's voice was heard calling: "Mr. Alan, Mr. Alan, wait till I get another lamp."
At that on Bullard's face the sweat broke thickly. With a gasp he let
Flitch drop like a heavy sack, and started to run.
Not far beyond the gates Flitch overtook him.
Between thick sobs Flitch was moaning: "I heard his voice. 'Twas clear and strong. He's alive! … I didn't kill him after all. Oh, God, I'm that thankful. I heard his voice. He's alive…."