Edith Nesbit: Children's Books Collection (Illustrated Edition). Эдит Несбит

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СКАЧАТЬ "Can't! Door locked!"

      "My goodness!" said the Vicar. "Andrew, fetch the stable lantern. Perhaps it would be as well to fetch another man from the village."

      "With the rest of the gang about, very likely. No, sir; if this 'ere ain't a trap—well, may I never! There's cook's cousin at the back door now. He's a keeper, sir, and used to dealing with vicious characters. And he's got his gun, sir."

      "Hullo there!" shouted Cyril from the church-tower; "come up and let us out."

      "We're a-coming," said Andrew. "I'm a-going to get a policeman and a gun."

      "Andrew, Andrew," said the Vicar, "that's not the truth."

      "It's near enough, sir, for the likes of them."

      So Andrew fetched the lantern and the cook's cousin; and the Vicar's wife begged them all to be very careful.

      They went across the churchyard—it was quite dark now—and as they went they talked. The Vicar was certain a lunatic was on the church-tower—the one who had written the mad letter, and taken the cold tongue and things. Andrew thought it was a "trap"; the cook's cousin alone was calm. "Great cry, little wool," said he; "dangerous chaps is quieter." He was not at all afraid. But then he had a gun. That was why he was asked to lead the way up the worn, steep, dark steps of the church-tower. He did lead the way, with the lantern in one hand and the gun in the other. Andrew went next. He pretended afterwards that this was because he was braver than his master, but really it was because he thought of traps and he did not like the idea of being behind the others for fear someone should come softly up behind him and catch hold of his legs in the dark. They went on and on, and round and round the little corkscrew staircase—then through the bell- ringers' loft, where the bell-ropes hung with soft furry ends like giant caterpillars—then up another stair into the belfry, where the big quiet bells are—and then on up a ladder with broad steps—and then up a little stone stair. And at the top of that there was a little door. And the door was bolted on the stair side.

      The cook's cousin, who was a gamekeeper, kicked at the door, and said—

      "Hullo, you there!"

      The children were holding on to each other on the other side of the door, and trembling with anxiousness—and very hoarse with their howls. They could hardly speak, but Cyril managed to reply huskily—

      "Hullo, you there!"

      "How did you get up there?"

      It was no use saying "We flew up," so Cyril said—

      "We got up—and then we found the door was locked and we couldn't get down. Let us out—do."

      "How many of you are there?" asked the keeper.

      "Only four," said Cyril.

      "Are you armed?"

      "Are we what?"

      "I've got my gun handy—so you'd best not try any tricks," said the keeper. "If we open the door, will you promise to come quietly down, and no nonsense?"

      "Yes—oh YES!" said all ,the children together.

      "Bless me," said the Vicar, "surely that was a female voice?"

      "Shall I open the door, sir?" said the keeper. Andrew went down a few steps, "to leave room for the others" he said afterwards.

      "Yes," said the Vicar, "open the door. Remember," he said through the keyhole, "we have come to release you. You will keep your promise to refrain from violence?"

      "How this bolt do stick," said the keeper; "anyone 'ud think it hadn't been drawed for half a year." As a matter of fact it hadn't.

      When all the bolts were drawn, the keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole.

      "I don't open," said he, "till you've gone over to the other side of the tower. And if one of you comes at me I fire. Now!"

      "We're all over on the other side," said the voices.

      The keeper felt pleased with himself, and owned himself a bold man when he threw open that door, and, stepping out into the leads, flashed the full light of the stable lantern on the group of desperadoes standing against the parapet on the other side of the tower.

      He lowered his gun, and he nearly dropped the lantern.

      "So help me," he cried, "if they ain't a pack of kiddies!"

      The Vicar now advanced.

      "How did you come here?" he asked severely. "Tell me at once."

      "Oh, take us down," said Jane, catching at his coat, "and we'll tell you anything you like. You won't believe us, but it doesn't matter. Oh, take us down!"

      The others crowded round him, with the same entreaty. All but Cyril. He had enough to do with the soda-water syphon, which would keep slipping down under his jacket. It needed both hands to keep it steady in its place.

       The keeper spoke deep-chested words through the keyhole

      But he said, standing as far out of the lantern light as possible—

      "Please do take us down."

      So they were taken down. It is no joke to go down a strange church-tower in the dark, but the keeper helped them—only, Cyril had to be independent because of the soda-water syphon. It would keep trying to get away. Half-way down the ladder it all but escaped. Cyril just caught it by its spout, and as nearly as possible lost his footing. He was trembling and pale when at last they reached the bottom of the winding stair and stepped out on to the stones of the church-porch.

      Then suddenly the keeper caught Cyril and Robert each by an arm.

      "You bring along the gells, sir," said he; "you and Andrew can manage them."

      "Let go!" said Cyril; "we aren't running away. We haven't hurt your old church. Leave go!"

      "You just come along," said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose him with violence because just then the syphon began to slip again.

      So they were marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's wife came rushing in.

      "Oh, William, are you safe?" she cried.

      Robert hastened to allay her anxiety.

      "Yes," he said, "he's quite safe. We haven't hurt them at all. And please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you send us home in your carriage?"

      "Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage," said Anthea. "Martha will be very anxious as it is."

      The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement.

      Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees because of the soda-water syphon.

      "But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?" asked the Vicar.

      "We СКАЧАТЬ