The Master of Phoenix Hall Read Online Free PDF Page A

shoulders fall dejectedly as he tossed the box down at the feet of the man in black. The box split open. Several gold pieces rolled about our feet. The two silent brutes began to gather it all up quickly. The man in black stood watching them.
    â€œGovernment funds,” the driver said. “You’ll pay for this, just wait. You’ll get caught.”
    â€œShut up, you.” His voice was low but much more deadly than it would have been had he yelled.
    The driver was suddenly brave, or perhaps just uncaring. “How did you know it was coming by passenger coach, instead of the regular way? How could you possibly have known it was on this coach?”
    The man did not reply. His men had gathered up all the money, and they put it in one of the saddle bags. They climbed onto their horses, waiting patiently for their leader. He turned to Nan and me, making a formal bow and taking off his hat.
    â€œCharmed,” he said. “I would have liked to meet you under more pleasant circumstances—” He hesitated. “Perhaps I shall yet. I hope you have a pleasant journey, Ladies.”
    He swung onto his horse and we heard them galloping away. It was very quiet. They had blown out the lantern and only the frosty light of the stars gave illumination to the scene. Then a cricket began a chirp and another followed suit. The night air was chill. But I felt a much stronger chill inside of me. It was not caused by the night air. It was caused by the tall, powerfully built man in black with a face covered with black hood and the voice and manners of a gentleman.
    The inn was rustic and very clean. I had a small room on the second floor and Nan’s was right next door. Both of us had bathed, and I stood at a mirror now, brushing my long brown hair. A candle was burning in its pewter candlestick, casting a warm orange light over the room. It had dull gray walls and a white ceiling. The furniture was plain, and the only touch of color was the large, brightly hued rug on the floor. After riding in the coach all day, the room seemed like unparalleled luxury to me. There was the tangy odor of an apple that someone had left behind, and the breeze, swelling the stiffly starched white curtains, brought in all the smells of the night. It seemed incredible that the highwayman’s holdup had taken place only two hours ago.
    Although I had been exhausted before, now I was vividly awake and all of the tiredness had vanished. The hot bath had refreshed me, and the excitement had stimulated me. It was not yet midnight, and the mistress of the inn was preparing a late supper for us. I did not think it would ever be possible for me to sleep.
    Nan came into the room, looking fresh in a faded pink cotton dress. It had a wide white sash and there was a white ribbon in her hair. She was aglow with excitement. Nan had never been outside London before, and this was all very thrilling to her. She was a strong, sturdy girl, had taught herself to read and write by sheer willpower, and she was prepared amply for any adventure that might occur. A mere holdup could not greatly disturb her.
    â€œLet me finish brushing your hair,” she said.
    I handed her the brush and sat down before the mirror.
    Nan began to brush my hair with firm, gentle strokes. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Nan would have waited on me hand and foot if I allowed her to. Servitude was in her nature. Her mother had been a wash woman, and her mother’s mother had been an indentured servant.
    â€œI wasn’t a bit afraid.” She had talked of nothing but the holdup. She fancied herself something of a heroine and tended to exaggerate her bravery. I could see the story growing in her mind. In retelling it to a stranger she would no doubt add dramatic embellishments.
    â€œYou were very brave,” I agreed.
    â€œThat’s the first time I’ve ever seen a bandit close up, although I saw a pickpocket in Picadilly one time. Do you think he will get