“The boot is on t’other leg, Dick,” says he maliciously. “’Tis you are doomed!” and closing the door behind him he whistled shrilly.
I knew what he intended, and that his men were there, but I stooped over the boy’s body and held my fingers to his heart. ’Twas dead and still. I cursed Grubbe and started up. If I was not to be taken there was only the window, looking on the deeps of the descending valley. I threw back the casement and leaped over the sill. Grubbe should perish, I swore, and I doubled now my oath.
I could ha’ wept for that poor youth that had died to avenge my honor. But my first business was my safety, and I crept down as far as I might and dropped. By that time the catchpolls were crowding into the room above. I struck the slanting hill and fell backward, but, getting to my feet, which were very numb with the concussion of the fall, I sped briskly into the darkness, making for the woods.
I lay in their shelter an hour, and then resolved on a circumspection. ’Twas not my intention to leave the mare behind, if so be she had escaped Grubbe and his creatures; and, moreover, I had other designs in my head. So I made my way back deviously to the inn and reconnoitered. Stillness hung about it, and after a time I marched up to the door cautiously and knocked on it.
The innkeeper opened it, and, the lamp burning on my face, started as if I were the devil.
“Hush, man!” said I. “Is the officer gone?”
He looked at me dubiously and trembling. “Come,” said I, for I knew the reputation of those parts, “I am from Shoreham Gap yonder, and I was near taken for an offense against the revenue.”
“You are a smuggler?” said he anxiously. “They said you were a tobyman.”
“They will take away any decent man’s name,” said I. “I want my horse. You have no fancy for preventive men, I’ll guess.”
And this was true enough, for he had a mine of cellars under his inn and through the roadway.