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While my would-be murderers were holding this whispered colloquy,
I had stood half-petrified by the open window; unwilling to slide
down the sheets into the arms of an unseen enemy, though I had no
idea which of them it could be; more hopeful of slipping past my
butchers in the darkness, and so to Rattray and poor Eva; but not
the less eagerly looking for some hiding-place in the room. The
best that offered was a recess in the thick wall between the two
windows, filled with hanging clothes: a narrow closet without a
door, which would shelter me well enough if not too curiously
inspected. Here I hid myself in the end, after a moment of
indecision which nearly cost me my life. The coats and trousers
still shook in front of me when the door flew open at the first
kick, and Santos stood a moment in the moonlight, looking for the
bed. With a stride he reached it, and I saw the gleam of a knife
from where I stood among the squire's clothes; it flashed over my
bed, and was still.
"He is not 'ere!"
"He heard us, and he's a-hiding."
"Make light, my friend, and we shall very soon see."
Harris did so.
"Here's a candle," said Santos; "light it, and watch the door.
Perro mal dicto! What have we here?"
I felt certain he had seen me, but the candle passed within a yard of
my feet, and was held on high at the open window.
"We are too late!" said Santos. "He's gone!"
"Are you sure
"Look at this sheet."
"Then the other swab knew of it, and we'll settle with him."
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