Miss Jacobson's Journey by Carola Dunn

Author:Carola Dunn [Dunn, Carola]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1992-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Come, quickly.” Miriam put one hand on Hannah’s elbow, the other to her nose.

The alley, blocked at one end by the back of a building, was littered with a stinking refuse of rotting cabbage leaves, onion peelings, and unnameable substances covered with blue and green mould. Down the centre ran a slimy gutter. Picking their way through the filth with all possible speed, they startled a mongrel crouched over something Miriam preferred not to look at. The emaciated cur snarled then loped away, its tail between its legs.

When it reached the alley’s entrance, it looked back and bared its teeth again. Miriam raised her arm as if to throw a stone. The dog turned to flee, just as a stout figure in blue uniform appeared around the corner of the inn. Man and dog collided.

The gendarme tripped and fell, dropping a hunk of bread and cheese. The dog snatched it in passing. On his knees, the man scowled after it.

“Sacrebleu! Mon déjeuner!“ he wailed. Hoisting himself to his feet he ran a few pointless steps after the thief.

Miriam and Hannah slipped around the opposite corner and hurried down the narrow, twisting street.

At the first crossing Miriam turned right, then left at the next. Hannah was gasping for breath so Miriam slowed her pace. Already their obvious haste had drawn a few curious glances. She was afraid, though, that when the police failed to find her at the Prince de Galles they would search the area.

Hannah recovered her breath as they walked on between the overhanging timbered houses. “May God not forsake them,” she groaned. “They’re good lads, both of them. Where are we going, child? What shall we do?”

Miriam forced herself to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought of Isaac and Felix in police custody. At present she could do nothing for them. She must concentrate on not joining them.

“We have little choice, we shall go to the Ségals. At worst, Monsieur Ségal will lend us money to escape; at best he may be able to help the others. Do you recognize this street?”

“No, Miss Miriam. It looks just like all the rest to me.”

“To me, too. We must be on the west side of the city, I believe. The Ségals live to the north.”

Though Miriam felt as if days had passed since she woke that morning, it was still early. Looking up at the strip of blue sky above, she saw that the sun shone on the eaves of the houses on her left. Straight ahead was north, then. Not that anything was straight ahead in that labyrinth, but she feared they might be conspicuous in the wide streets of the new section.

They kept on course by checking the sun’s position now and then, and in spite of being one of France’s larger towns, Bordeaux in no way compared with London for size. A brisk fifteen-minute walk brought them to streets they recognized. Soon they were gazing across the Rue Médoc, straighter and wider than most, at the Ségals’ house.

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