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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

For so far was I from
being able to seize him that I dared not ask a question, or let
fall a rash word, or even look about me freely. I saw I dared
not. The slightest hint of my mission, the faintest breath of
distrust, would lead to throat-cutting--and the throat would be
mine; while the longer I lay in the village, the greater
suspicion I should incur, and the closer would be the watch kept
upon me.
In such a position some men might have given up the attempt in
despair, and saved themselves across the border. But I have
always valued myself on my fidelity, and I did not shrink. If
not to-day, to-morrow; if not this time, next time. The dice do
not always turn up aces. Bracing myself, therefore, to the
occasion, I crept, as soon as the house was quiet, to the window,
a small, square, open lattice, much cobwebbed, and partly stuffed
with hay. I looked out. The village seemed to be asleep. The
dark branches of trees hung a few feet away, and almost obscured
a grey, cloudy sky, through which a wet moon sailed drearily.
Looking downwards, I could at first see nothing; but as my eyes
grew used to the darkness--I had only just put out my rushlight--
I made out the stable door and the shadowy outlines of the
lean-to roof.


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