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Benson, Robert Hugh, 1871-1914

"Come Rack! Come Rope!"


The pike was presently withdrawn.
For a long while the talking went on. So far as the rest of the house
was concerned, the hidden man could tell nothing, or whether Mr. John
were taken, or whether the search were given up. He could not even fix
his mind on the point; he was constructing for himself, furiously and
intently, the scene he imagined in the hall below; he thought he saw the
two priests barred in behind the high table; my lord Shrewsbury in the
one great chair in the midst of the room; Mr. Columbell, perhaps, or Mr.
John Manners talking in his ear; the men on guard over the, priests and
beside the door; and another, maybe, standing by the hearth.
He was so intent on this that he thought of little else; though still,
on a strange background of another consciousness, moved scenes and ideas
such as he had had at the beginning. And he was torn from this
contemplation with the suddenness of a blow, by a voice speaking, it
seemed, within a foot of his head.
"Well, we have those rats, at any rate."
(He perceived instantly what had happened. The men were back again in
the chapel, and he had not heard them come. He supposed that he could
hear the words now, because of the breaking of the panel next to his
own.)
"Ralph said he was sure of the other one, too," said a second voice.
"Which was that one?"
"The fellow that was at Fotheringay."
(Robin clenched his teeth like iron.)
"Well, he is not here.


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