“Ah, there you are,” said the woman; “I only wish I was near you. Puss—puss—puss.”
This call from the woman was a hypocritical one, and evidently intended to deceive the supposed cat or cats to their serious personal detriment should they venture to the window allured by such pacific sounds.
There was a pause of some moments, then the woman exclaimed,—
“Oh, you artful wretches; I declare these cats are as knowing as Christians.”
The attic window was then shut with a very aggravated bang, and Gray’s companion took his hand from his throat as he said to him,—
“Curse you, what the devil made you come down the slope with such a run?“
“I—I didn’t know it,” said Gray.
“Come on and mind what you are about. I didn’t think you were so precious green as you are; come on, I say.”
The fellow crept on ahead, and a tug at the rope caused Gray to follow, which he did; so weak from terror and exhaustion that he could scarcely contrive to keep up with his guide, and numerous were the falls he received, as a sudden pull of the rope rebuked his tardy progress. Altogether, it was, to Jacob Gray, an awful means of safety, if safety was to be the result of it.
They proceeded along the gutter they were in until they came to the corner house of the court, to turn which was no easy matter, from the circumstance of the coping stones ceasing each way, at about a foot from the absolute corner, down to which the roof came with a point. Round this point the housebreaker stepped with ease, but to Gray, oppressed as his mind was with fears and terrors, and weakened and exhausted as he was from his recent unusual bodily exertion, it was a task of the greatest magnitude and terror.