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crkkk
and the squeak as of a boot. The boy
bit hard on his lip. Yet another slow sliding step forward; the
kitchen door
was
ajar. A spear of yellow light warned the intruder.
But light — spear or no spear — was as vitalizing as a sip of wine.
Red-capped, pock-marked faces, all sorts and conditions of crimi-
nals, buccaneers and highwaymen, gore and glory, flocked back
again into the boy's fancy. An icy delicious shiver ran down his
spine, for now Jacobs, tied with a tape round the middle, in his
green baize apron, must be sitting at not much more than arm's
length from the door. Or if not, who?
Inch by inch, courage restored, he slid on soundlessly, his stock-
inged foot first pushing forward into the light, then the white edge
of his nightshirt. He pressed skin-close to the further side of the
passage, and was actually half past the door ajar, when through a
narrow chink he glanced into the kitchen, and so — suddenly found
himself squinting full into the eyes of the fat woman in the black
bonnet. Crouching a little, stiff and motionless, her eyes bolting
out of her face, she stood there full in the light of the gas jet over
her head, the faded brown hair that showed beneath her bonnet
wreathing it as if with a nimbus. The boy stood frozen.
Not for an instant did he imagine he could be invisible to such a
stare as that, to eyes which, though they were small and dark
showed as round and shining as the silver locket that rose and fell
jerkily upon her chest. His mouth opened - mute as a fish; every
206 Walter de la Mare
sinew in his body stiffened in readiness for flight. But the woman
never so much as stirred. Every fibre and muscle in
her
body was
at stretch to aid her ears. It looked as if she might be able to hear
even his thoughts moving. So would a she-wolf stand at gaze under
a white moon, with those unstirring eyes; famished and gaunt. And
yet, what in the world was there for
her
to be afraid of? If anybody
else was there she would have spoken. She was alone, then? His
fingers suddenly relaxed, the scabbard of his poniard rattled
against the wall behind him, and there slipped off his tongue the
most unlikely question that would ever else have come into his
mind. 'I say, where's Jacobs?'
The lids over the little black eyes fluttered and the woman's lips
opened in a squawk. Her two rough red hands were suddenly
clapped on either side of her mouth. For a moment he thought she
was going to scream again, and was thankful when only a shudder-
ing sob followed. 'Oh, sir, how you did startle me. Mr Jacobs, sir,
why just as you was coming — he's gone, sir; he's gone.'
The boy pushed open the door and stood on the threshold. He
had supposed it impossible that so stout a woman could speak in
so small a voice. Sheer curiosity had banished all alarm. Besides, if
Jacobs was out, there was no immediate danger. He looked about
him, conscious that he was being closely watched from between
those square red fingers, and that the forehead above them
was deeply wrinkled almost as if the woman were helpless with
laughter.
'Why, lor,' she was muttering as if to herself, 'it's only the little
boy. My! I thought he was his pa, I did; God bless him. He's come
down for a drink of water. That's what he wants. And all in his
pretty nightgown too.'
Tears were now gushing down her round cheeks and gurgling in
her voice. She walked in angles to a chair and sat there rocking her
body to and fro and smiling at him - an odd contorted smile of
blandishment and stupidity sicklied over with fear. He blushed, and
stared back at her as hot and angry as when in days gone by bent-
up wrinkled old ladies used to stop his nurse in the street to ask
questions about him, and had even openly kissed him.
This end to his adventure, which seemed to be leading him into
difficulties he had never dreamed of, was a bitter disappointment.
A drink of water! He resented the presence of this fat woman in
the kitchen. He resented even more his own embarrassment. He
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