Part 11 (2/2)
”What happened?” asked Moore.
”Well, nothing very much,” said Oakes; ”only I guess I got a mighty good licking.”
”You look it,” said I. ”Did you shoot for help?”
”Yes, I did. I could not _shout_. The shots saved my life.”
”How? Did you kill anyone?”
”Don't know, only the other party kindly quit killing me when I began to shoot. I heard something drop, however, and there may be a dead body somewhere.”
The shots had aroused the household, and we heard shouting and cries from the Cooks and from Annie. Soon they appeared, hunting for us, all distraught and frightened. They said they were in the kitchen when they heard the shots, and did not know whence they came. This was probable, as the cellar was away from their section. Annie cried when she saw Oakes, and ran out to bring in more help. One of the gardeners returned with her, and as he came into the room I received the impression of a silent, stern-looking man, past forty and rather strong in appearance, although not large. He had seen better days.
”Ah!” said he; ”ye have run up aginst it agin, sorr. It's nerve ye have, to go nigh that room after what ye got last time.” Oakes looked at me and at Moore, and we saw he wished us to keep silent.
”Yes! I shan't try it again in a hurry. What's your name?” he asked.
The question came quick as a flash. I knew he was trying to disconcert the fellow.
”My name is Mike O'Brien, sorr, gardener; you remimber, 'twas me that helped you last time, sorr.”
”You mean you stood by and let the others help me, Mike.”
We knew now that this was the indifferent gardener of whom Oakes had spoken.
”Thrue for ye, sorr; 'twas little enough I did, and that's a fact; I'm not used to being scared to death like ye be, sorr.” Was that an unintentional shot, or was it a ”feeler”?
Oakes had a sharp customer before him, and he knew it.
”Where were you when you heard the shots, Mike?”
”In the woods at the front of the house. I was raking up the leaves, be the same token.”
”What did you see?” Oakes spoke in a commanding voice and fingered the breech of his revolver in a suggestive way.
”I seen a shadow come out av the cellar door.”
”What door?”
”The _only_ cellar door; near the side av the house, sorr.”
”What sort of a shadow?”
”'Twas the shadow av a man, and a big one. The sun cast it on the side av the house, sorr.”
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