Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

seeing here tonight, now form ourselves into a committee for arming the people. Three of us are permanent in London; Wilkins and myself will aid you in the provinces. Nothing can be decided on this head till we see Langley, who will make a communication from Birmingham that cannot be trusted to writing. The seven o’clock train must have long since arrived. He is now a good hour behind his time.”

“I hear footsteps,” said Maclast.

“He comes,” said Gerard.

The door of the chamber opened and a woman entered. Pale, agitated, exhausted, she advanced to them in the glimmering light.

“What is this?” said several of the council.

“Sybil!” exclaimed the astonished Gerard, and he rose from his seat.

She caught the arm of her father, and leant on him for a moment in silence. Then looking up with an expression that seemed to indicate she was rallying her last energies, she said, in a voice low yet so distinct that it reached the ear of all present, “There is not an instant to lose: fly!”

The men rose hastily from their seats; they approached the messenger of danger; Gerard waved them off, for he perceived his daughter was sinking. Gently he placed her in his chair; she was sensible, for she grasped his arm, and she murmured⁠—still she murmured⁠—“fly!”

“ ’Tis very strange,” said Maclast.

“I feel queer!” said the thickset man.

“Methinks she looks like a heavenly messenger,” said Wilkins. “I had no idea that earth had anything so fair,” said the youthful scribe of proclamations.

“Hush friends!” said Gerard: and then he bent over Sybil and said in a low soothing voice, “Tell me, my child, what is it?”

She looked up to her father; a glance as it were of devotion and despair: her lips moved, but they refused their office and expressed no words. There was a deep silence in the room.

“She is gone,” said her father.

“Water,” said the young man, and he hurried away to obtain some.

“I feel queer,” said his thickset colleague to Maclast.

“I will answer for Langley as for myself.” said Maclast; “and there is not another human being aware of our purpose.”

“Except Morley.”

“Yes: except Morley. But I should as soon doubt Gerard as Stephen Morley.”

“Certainly.”

“I cannot conceive how she traced me,” said Gerard. “I have never even breathed to her of our meeting. Would we had some water! Ah! here it comes.”

“I arrest you in the Queen’s name,” said a serjeant of police. “Resistance is vain.” Maclast blew out the light, and then ran up into the loft, followed by the thickset man, who fell down the stairs: Wilkins got up the chimney. The sergeant took a lantern from his pocket, and threw a powerful light on the chamber, while his followers entered, seized and secured all the papers, and commenced their search.

The light fell upon a group that did not move: the father holding the hand of his insensible child, while he extended his other arm as if to preserve her from the profanation of the touch of the invaders.

“You are Walter Gerard, I presume,” said the serjeant, “six foot two without shoes.”

“Whoever I may he,” he replied, “I presume you will produce your warrant, friend, before you touch me.”

“ ’Tis here. We want five of you, named herein, and all others that may happen to be found in your company.”

“I shall obey the warrant,” said Gerard after he had examined it; “but this maiden, my daughter, knows nothing of this meeting or its purpose. She has but just arrived, and how she traced me I know not. You will let me recover her, and then permit her to depart.”

“Can’t let no one out of my sight found in this room.”

“But she is innocent, even if we were guilty; she could be nothing else but innocent, for she knows nothing of this meeting and its business, both of which I am prepared at the right time and place to vindicate. She entered this room a moment only before yourself, entered and swooned.”

“Can’t help that; must take her; she can tell the magistrate anything she likes, and he must decide.”

“Why you are not afraid of a young girl?”

“I am afraid of nothing; but I must do my duty. Come, we have no time for talk. I must take you both.”

“By G⁠⸺⁠d you shall not take her;” and letting go her hand, Gerard advanced before her and assumed a position of defence. “You know, I find, my height: my strength does not shame my stature! Look to yourself. Advance and touch this maiden, and I will fell you and your minions like oxen at their pasture.”

The inspector took a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Gerard. “You see,” he said, “resistance is quite vain.”

“For slaves and cravens, but not for us. I say you shall not touch her till I am dead at her feet. Now, do your worst.”

At this moment two policemen who had been searching the loft descended with Maclast who had vainly attempted to effect his escape over a neighbouring roof; the thickset man was already secured; and Wilkins had been pulled down the chimney and made his appearance in as grimy a state as such a shelter would naturally have occasioned. The young man too, their first prisoner who had been captured before they had entered the room, was also brought in; there was now abundance of light; the four prisoners were ranged and well guarded at the end of the apartment; Gerard standing before Sybil still maintained his position of defence, and the serjeant was, a few yards away, in his front with his pistol in his hand.

“Well you are a queer chap,” said the serjeant; “but I must do my duty. I shall give orders to my men to seize you, and if you resist them, I shall shoot you through the head.”

“Stop!” called out one of the prisoners, the young man who drew proclamations, “she moves. Do with us as you think fit, but you cannot be so harsh as to seize one that is senseless,