Read Online To You, Mr Chips by James Hilton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Hilton
Tags: Fiction, General, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, England, Large Type Books, Europe, School & Education, Teachers, Boys, Endowed Public Schools (Great Britain)
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and fell. The next he knew was that the rumbling noise had halted somehow beside him, and had changed and lowered its key. Someone was holding him up and feeling his arms.
'No bones broken, Roberts. I'm sure we didn't touch him--he just slipped and fell over. We'd best take him along with us, anyhow.'
'Yes, sir.'
Gerald found himself lifted off his feet with his face pressing against something rain-drenched and fluffy. A ray of yellow light caught it, and he saw then that it was a rosette fastened to a man's overcoat.
A blue rosette.
Blue.
Once again the truth besieged him in an overpowering rush. This man who was holding him must be the Other Candidate . . . and the noise-making Thing nearby must be the motor-car. There could be no doubt about it. And he was shaken. He felt fear, horror, and the simple presence of evil. 'Let me go!' he shouted desperately, wriggling and twisting and hitting the man's face with his fists.
'Here, what's the matter, youngster?'
'Let me go--let me go!'
'What's all the fuss about? You aren't hurt, are you? Better get him in the car, Roberts.'
'No! No, no!'
'Well, what the devil do you want?'
Now that the man had used a swear, like that, Gerald was more certain than ever that he must be the Other Candidate. And knowing that he was the Other Candidate, it was easy to see what a wicked face he had. Terrible eyes and a curving nose and a sneery mouth, like pictures of pirates. And what he wanted to do, undoubtedly, was to steal the Candidate's letter that Gerald was carrying. Gerald looked around wildly. The man had put him down to earth again, that was something; but both the men seemed so huge above him, and the falling rain seemed to enclose the darkness through which lay his only chance of escape.
'Come on,' said the man roughly. 'This is no place to hang about all night. We'd better make sure and take him along with us, Roberts.'
'Very good, sire.'
'No!' screamed Gerald. 'You carpet-bagger!' And with that a quick bound into the middle of the darkness, he ran down the hill, leaving the two men standing by the motor-car. He heard them laughing; then he heard them shouting after him and to each other; then he heard them beginning to run after him. He plunged sideways into a hedge, scratching his face and arms and bruising his eye against a thick branch. At last he managed to struggle through the long wet grasses of a field. He could hear the two men running down the hill; they passed within a few yards of him on the other side of the hedge; they passed by. As soon as he had gained breath he began to stumble farther across the field. They should not take him alive, and they should not find the Candidate's letter. So he tore it up into very little pieces and let go a few of them whenever there came a big gust of wind. When they were all gone he felt brave again and wished he had some other papers to tear up and throw away.
It was ten o'clock at night when Gerald, in charge of a policeman, arrived at Number 2, The Parade. The Candidate was out, but Uncle Richard and Aunt Flo were waiting up, worried and anxious and by no means reassured by Gerald's first appearance. For he was nearly speechless with exhaustion; his clothes were drenched and mud-plastered; his arms and face were streaked with scratches, and he had an unmistakable black eye. All the policeman could say was that he had found him fast asleep in a shop doorway along the Mickle road, and that he had been incapable of giving any account of what had happened to him--only the fact that he lived at Number 2, The Parade.
Uncle Richard fetched the doctor; meanwhile Aunt Flo rubbed Gerald with towels, gave him some Benger's Food, and put him to bed with three hot bricks wrapped round with pieces of blanket. He was fast asleep again long before the doctor came.
In the morning he felt much better except for a certain dazedness, aches in most of his limbs, and an eye which he could hardly open. Uncle Richard and Aunt Flo were
'No bones broken, Roberts. I'm sure we didn't touch him--he just slipped and fell over. We'd best take him along with us, anyhow.'
'Yes, sir.'
Gerald found himself lifted off his feet with his face pressing against something rain-drenched and fluffy. A ray of yellow light caught it, and he saw then that it was a rosette fastened to a man's overcoat.
A blue rosette.
Blue.
Once again the truth besieged him in an overpowering rush. This man who was holding him must be the Other Candidate . . . and the noise-making Thing nearby must be the motor-car. There could be no doubt about it. And he was shaken. He felt fear, horror, and the simple presence of evil. 'Let me go!' he shouted desperately, wriggling and twisting and hitting the man's face with his fists.
'Here, what's the matter, youngster?'
'Let me go--let me go!'
'What's all the fuss about? You aren't hurt, are you? Better get him in the car, Roberts.'
'No! No, no!'
'Well, what the devil do you want?'
Now that the man had used a swear, like that, Gerald was more certain than ever that he must be the Other Candidate. And knowing that he was the Other Candidate, it was easy to see what a wicked face he had. Terrible eyes and a curving nose and a sneery mouth, like pictures of pirates. And what he wanted to do, undoubtedly, was to steal the Candidate's letter that Gerald was carrying. Gerald looked around wildly. The man had put him down to earth again, that was something; but both the men seemed so huge above him, and the falling rain seemed to enclose the darkness through which lay his only chance of escape.
'Come on,' said the man roughly. 'This is no place to hang about all night. We'd better make sure and take him along with us, Roberts.'
'Very good, sire.'
'No!' screamed Gerald. 'You carpet-bagger!' And with that a quick bound into the middle of the darkness, he ran down the hill, leaving the two men standing by the motor-car. He heard them laughing; then he heard them shouting after him and to each other; then he heard them beginning to run after him. He plunged sideways into a hedge, scratching his face and arms and bruising his eye against a thick branch. At last he managed to struggle through the long wet grasses of a field. He could hear the two men running down the hill; they passed within a few yards of him on the other side of the hedge; they passed by. As soon as he had gained breath he began to stumble farther across the field. They should not take him alive, and they should not find the Candidate's letter. So he tore it up into very little pieces and let go a few of them whenever there came a big gust of wind. When they were all gone he felt brave again and wished he had some other papers to tear up and throw away.
It was ten o'clock at night when Gerald, in charge of a policeman, arrived at Number 2, The Parade. The Candidate was out, but Uncle Richard and Aunt Flo were waiting up, worried and anxious and by no means reassured by Gerald's first appearance. For he was nearly speechless with exhaustion; his clothes were drenched and mud-plastered; his arms and face were streaked with scratches, and he had an unmistakable black eye. All the policeman could say was that he had found him fast asleep in a shop doorway along the Mickle road, and that he had been incapable of giving any account of what had happened to him--only the fact that he lived at Number 2, The Parade.
Uncle Richard fetched the doctor; meanwhile Aunt Flo rubbed Gerald with towels, gave him some Benger's Food, and put him to bed with three hot bricks wrapped round with pieces of blanket. He was fast asleep again long before the doctor came.
In the morning he felt much better except for a certain dazedness, aches in most of his limbs, and an eye which he could hardly open. Uncle Richard and Aunt Flo were
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