We, The Accused by Ernest Raymond

Author:Ernest Raymond [Raymond, Ernest]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-11-16T18:12:59+00:00

Chapter II

T

HAT WAS the first day. Next day the papers were full of the inquest, and Paul, loafing and idling about his rooms, saw from the windows people coming past the house to throw their covert glances at it, or small boys lingering on the opposite pavement and gaping at its front. All day they passed, these covert gapers. Then that day was gone, and its night; and next day the papers were empty of allusion to him, and the relief was like the ease after sickness. But it was only momentary; the ache returned as he knew it for spurious relief. This was only a pause: 'it is seventy hours now since the analyst began his examination', ran his thought. 'How much does he know now? Time is passing; that clock is ticking away my chances of escape. Why don't I do something?'

Why not? So simple; and any minute it might be too late. He might regret for the rest of a short, doomed life that he had not taken the courageous step. So simple. A quiet walk to the station, a couple of hours in the train, a trip from Brighton or Eastbourne to the Continent--and surely it would be beyond the powers of the best to track him there. And the time was with him. In a few days the holiday season would reach its height, with crowds to cover him at the stations. This surely was Fate offering him a chance, and he would be a fool not to take it.

He would stroll out of the house quite naturally--without a bag, in case anyone was looking from opposite windows. He would have all day in London, to buy a bag here, a hat there, and new clothes in twenty different shops. And they could be holiday garments--flannels, light vests, a straw hat--all so natural to buy and to wear. Oh, he could outwit them! He would take a train to some south coast town, and walk across country to--Southampton? No, the route from Southampton to Havre was too long. He wanted to be there quickly. Once on the quay at Calais or Dieppe he'd be safe-- and there came a glow of relief and happiness at the thought. Newhaven to Dieppe by the night boat? Yes, Newhaven was a natural holiday port. And Dieppe was a natural place to be going to, in the holiday rush. Next Friday would be the day to go, the Friday before Bank Holiday. Could he safely delay till then?

AndMyra? She could come too. Why not? Had she not said, "What do I care for the world?" What more natural than that she should go off for a holiday at this time? They could go by different routes to the boat, speak but little aboard, and meet on the other side. Then Paris--Madrid--anywhere. Who could find them?

The more perfect the plan, the more inevitable it seemed, when set against the case they could raise against him. This flight-thought was now a longing; and the longing was knowledge that, despite all deliberations, he would act on it.

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