suddenly drop your voice. It’s a trick I learned when I was a boy; I suppose that shows the sort of school I went to better than any words of my own. He was leaning forward; I caught him fairly on the point of the chin with the whole weight of my body behind it. His teeth came together with such a crack that for the moment I thought I must have broken his jaw, then he crumpled up at the knees and fell backwards in a heap at my feet.
As I say, I think it was about the dirtiest blow I ever struck. At the same time, I dare say I should do it again. I was four miles from a railway station; with this villageSherlock on my trail I’d never have got away. I owed it to Compton to make a better show than that.
There were a lot of tag-ends of bindings lying about on the ground, little thin bits of rope about the thickness of a pencil, but quite strong. Before he came to I had got him well trussed up, with his hands behind his back and his feet tied. Then I took him and laid him in the ditch by the haystack and covered him up with hay all except his face. I sat down beside him and waited for him to wake up, occupying my time and inventive capacity in devising a gag from his handkerchief and a bit of stick.
He came to himself presently, and when he was moderately clear I talked to him like a father.
‘Now look here,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to stay here for the next five or six hours I’m afraid—and just to make sure that you do, I’m going to gag you. I don’t suppose you’ll be able to untie those knots. I see you know who I am; I’m Compton, the convict from Dartmoor. Nobody knows I’m in this part; if you hadn’t come interfering with me I’d have let you alone. As it is, I’ve got to protect myself. Now, I’m going to gag you and leave you in this ditch covered over with hay; then I’m going up to London by train. When I get there I’ll send a telegram to your home to tell them where you are.’
He began to swear in a perfectly dreadful manner, so I gagged him and nearly got my finger bitten off in the process.
‘If you do that again,’ I said angrily, ‘I’ll give you such a clip on the ear as’ll send you to sleep again.’ I got out my note-case and a bit of pencil and waited till he had done struggling. ‘Now, what’s your address? You’d better tell me quickly: it’s your best chance of getting loose this evening.’
I untied the gag and he told me his name, FredGrigger, and the name of his farm. I noted that down and gagged him again well and truly. Then I turned him over on his face and put another lashing on his hands for luck. Finally, I turned him right way up again, made him as comfortable as I could with a bundle of hay under his head, covered him over with hay, and left him to his own devices.
It was about half-past one. I studied my map for a little and decided to make for Culham station, which I judged to be about four miles away. I picked up my rucksack, slung it over my shoulders, and set off down the road munching a sandwich as I went.
It took me some time to find the station and I had to ask more people than I liked. However, I was lucky in my train, which came along about ten minutes after I arrived. I booked a ticket to Reading, meaning to change there and get along down west after I had telegraphed about Grigger.
At Didcot an engine-driver got into my compartment with his mate. It struck me that I might get a little information out of them, and sounded them about trains for the west. It appeared that the next Exeter train was the 5.10 from Paddington, getting to Exeter at about half-past eight. It stopped at Reading. I considered this information carefully. The train that I was in was due at Paddington at 3.34; it seemed to me that it would be wiser to go on up to Town and send my telegram from there rather than to risk identification by hanging about on Reading station for three hours.
We got to Paddington at about twenty minutes to four. I dived straight down into the
As I say, I think it was about the dirtiest blow I ever struck. At the same time, I dare say I should do it again. I was four miles from a railway station; with this villageSherlock on my trail I’d never have got away. I owed it to Compton to make a better show than that.
There were a lot of tag-ends of bindings lying about on the ground, little thin bits of rope about the thickness of a pencil, but quite strong. Before he came to I had got him well trussed up, with his hands behind his back and his feet tied. Then I took him and laid him in the ditch by the haystack and covered him up with hay all except his face. I sat down beside him and waited for him to wake up, occupying my time and inventive capacity in devising a gag from his handkerchief and a bit of stick.
He came to himself presently, and when he was moderately clear I talked to him like a father.
‘Now look here,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to stay here for the next five or six hours I’m afraid—and just to make sure that you do, I’m going to gag you. I don’t suppose you’ll be able to untie those knots. I see you know who I am; I’m Compton, the convict from Dartmoor. Nobody knows I’m in this part; if you hadn’t come interfering with me I’d have let you alone. As it is, I’ve got to protect myself. Now, I’m going to gag you and leave you in this ditch covered over with hay; then I’m going up to London by train. When I get there I’ll send a telegram to your home to tell them where you are.’
He began to swear in a perfectly dreadful manner, so I gagged him and nearly got my finger bitten off in the process.
‘If you do that again,’ I said angrily, ‘I’ll give you such a clip on the ear as’ll send you to sleep again.’ I got out my note-case and a bit of pencil and waited till he had done struggling. ‘Now, what’s your address? You’d better tell me quickly: it’s your best chance of getting loose this evening.’
I untied the gag and he told me his name, FredGrigger, and the name of his farm. I noted that down and gagged him again well and truly. Then I turned him over on his face and put another lashing on his hands for luck. Finally, I turned him right way up again, made him as comfortable as I could with a bundle of hay under his head, covered him over with hay, and left him to his own devices.
It was about half-past one. I studied my map for a little and decided to make for Culham station, which I judged to be about four miles away. I picked up my rucksack, slung it over my shoulders, and set off down the road munching a sandwich as I went.
It took me some time to find the station and I had to ask more people than I liked. However, I was lucky in my train, which came along about ten minutes after I arrived. I booked a ticket to Reading, meaning to change there and get along down west after I had telegraphed about Grigger.
At Didcot an engine-driver got into my compartment with his mate. It struck me that I might get a little information out of them, and sounded them about trains for the west. It appeared that the next Exeter train was the 5.10 from Paddington, getting to Exeter at about half-past eight. It stopped at Reading. I considered this information carefully. The train that I was in was due at Paddington at 3.34; it seemed to me that it would be wiser to go on up to Town and send my telegram from there rather than to risk identification by hanging about on Reading station for three hours.
We got to Paddington at about twenty minutes to four. I dived straight down into the
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