[23]“If I get the coat, can you find the papers?” [23] “Yes, but—he is—dead;” and she shuddered. “We have to think of the living. Yourself, my friend, and your mother.” It is not a pleasant thing to strip the coat off a dead man; but it had to be done. So I went and did it as quickly as I could. I took it back to her and she was hurriedly searching for the papers when she gave a little gasp of alarm and shrank close to me as a horseman appeared, picking his way very gingerly down the hill. It was my friend, the police agent from Warsaw. In a moment he took in the scene. He recognized me at once, and my companion a moment later. “Ah, this is better luck than I expected. A smash, eh? So you didn’t get far away after all? I knew I should catch you, but didn’t hope to do it so soon. Where’s Count Peter Valdemar?” “You again, is it?” I said, with a smile. “This young lady, a country-woman of mine, Miss Mary Smith, has met with an accident and her servant, named Ivan Grubel, has been killed. The horses ran away.” “Killed, eh? That’s his coat then. Give that to me.” My companion caught her breath and clutched my arm. “You guessed too fast, my friend; you did so this morning, you know, as I showed you afterwards. This coat is mine;” and with that I slipped my arms into it and put it on. “Yes, it’s easy to see it’s yours by the way it[24] fits you,” he sneered. My arms were some three inches too long for the sleeves and the body was ridiculously short. “I know you by this time. You must give me that coat. I saw the woman there searching the pockets for something.” [24] “If you want it, you’d better come and take it. I shan’t give it up unless you do.” “For your own sake don’t mix up any more with this. If you are an Englishman, go away and leave me to deal with this woman. But give me that coat. You know to whom it belonged; and I must have it.” He dismounted and walked toward me. “You had better keep your distance,” I said quietly. “You resist? Then I must do my duty. You are my prisoner.”
Prev.
Back
Top