Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 301: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a window of the room where the light still burned, and through the little slip left uncovered at the side by the blind not being lowered straight, he could just see the bed on which the woman lay. The lamp-light fell full upon her face, and Tom saw that the lovely features were pale as death, and motionless as marble. “ Good heavens!” he said, “ what can this mean? Is she dead? There is some villany here. WhatshallI do? Why, act like a man, and see if I can save her, to be sure.” Tom tried the window, it was fastened. He hesitated a moment, then broke the centre pane of glass, and slipped back the latch. He thrust the blind aside, drew himself up still further, and vaulted into the room. As he did so, alow sigh escaped the form on the bed, and, with a beating heart, Tom sprang towards at. & CHAPTER CIII. THE FACE IN THE PORTRAIT, Jack had not got more than half a mile down the road from the house of Mr. Tomkins when the clatter of horses’ hoofs caused him to look behind, and he saw several horsemen coming along in a cloud of dust, at a good speed. At the moment, Jack thought nothing of the circumstance, but suddenly recollecting the squire’s threat, he fancied it was probable that he had obtained the assistance of others, and was bent upon his capture. He looked back again at the approaching horsemen, and imagined that he could trace, amid the cloud of dust, the tall form of the horse- whipped squire. “ Eoad!”’ muttered Jack ; ‘if my suspicions are correct, I had better make myself scarce. J have no fear of the squire, but I should stand a poor chance with a dozen mounted men. So, as prudence is the better part of valour, I'll be prudent, and get out of the high-road as soon as possible.”’ Looking around, he perceived a cluster of houses to the right, and saw that a broad, wind- ing lane, a short distance from where he stood, led down to them. In an instant he had made up his mind to go that way and wait till all was quiet. So, hurry- ing along, he struck off into the lane, and went along it at a good speed, till its bend took him out of sight of the high-road. Louder sounded the clatter of the animals’ hoofs, and then the-sound of voices reached his ears. Jack paused and listened. ‘“ As] thought,’ hesaid. ‘“ There’s the squire’s tones.’ : The voice of the squire was loud and indignant as he vowed vengeance upon our hero, and urged his friends forward to his capture. Then there was a pause in the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, and by the cloud of dust, which rose high into the air, J ack was certain they had drawn rein at the end of the lane. . ‘Whew !” exclaimed Jack. ‘‘ This is out of — eee SPRING-HEEL’D JACK: THE TERROP OF LONDON, eee TnI TIT nnn nn eI ne 303 the frying-pan into the fire, I fear ; for if they turn down this lane my prospects of escape are very small.” In anxious suspense Jack listened to the chorus of voices as each spoke at once, and advised at the same moment. “I will keep the high road with half of you,”’ said a voice, which Jack recognised as the squire’s ; “and the other half go down this lane, and meet us a couple of miles down the road. We shall thus be certain of him.’’ ‘The proposition was agreed to, and Jack took to his heels with all his speed. He knew his only chance was in obtaining a hiding-place in one of the houses some distance down the lane—a chance that was certainly augmented by the lane winding about, so as to prevent one person seeing another at a distance of a hundred yards. The voices of the men, and the sound of their horses’ hoofs, told him the troop was again in motion ; and he pushed on as fast as his legs would carry him, and was fortunate enough to reach the cluster of cottages ere he had been sighted by his pursuers, whose eagerness for his capture had become somewhat relaxed since parting with the squire. Jack did not hesitate a moment, but cleared the fence of the first at a bound ; and, perceiving a side door standing wide open, entered withgut ceremony the little hall at the moment the t horseman—a sturdy, farmer-looking man—came in sight. Jack was about to close the door to prevent being seen by the horsemen as they rode past, who had doubtless a good description of his person from the incensed squire, but fearful that the act might bring their gaze that way, he opened a side door, and entered a small room, containing no other furniture than a side table and a chintz covered easy chair and ottoman. In the centre of the room stood a painter’s easel, with the canvas stretched upon it, and covered with a long cloth. Several pictures adorned the walls, and in one corner a suit of armour, sadly out of repair, was reared against the wall. Jack took the whole in at a glance, then turned his gaze to the window, muttering— ‘“Humph! A painter’s studio. Well, if he requires a subject, in faith! here is one. Ah! there go my would-be captors. I had a hard run for it, but I have eluded them, and as soon as they are out of sight Vll be on the road again.” : | He flung himself down on the easy chair, and looked half abstractedly at the covered easel. “So this is the house of an artist, eh ?— talent in an out-of-the-way corner, surely, in this place. It is certainly a pretty retired spot to nourish art in; but I expect it isill paid for in a place like this. Well, so it is, as a rule, everywhere. In this strange world there are strange doings—fools thrive well, and worth is passed by unheeded. But perhaps I am praising one who possesses no claim to be styled an artist. Let’s see!” . Jack rose and lifted the covering from the easel, and gazed upon the portrait of an old lady, not badly executed. LLCO OOKS AGO