He did not want to fight.
He was under heavy bonds already to keep the peace, and this last had
surely been in self-defence, and he felt he could prove it. What he
wanted now was to get away, to get back to his own people and to lie
hidden in his own cellar or garret, where they would feed and guard
him until the trouble was over. And still, like the two ends of a
vise, the representatives of the law were closing in upon him. He
turned the knob of the door opening to the landing on which he stood,
and tried to push it in, but it was locked. Then he stepped quickly to
the door on the opposite side and threw his shoulder against it. The
door opened, and he stumbled forward sprawling. The room in which he
had taken refuge was almost bare, and very dark; but in a little room
leading from it he saw a pile of tossed-up bedding on the floor, and
he dived at this as though it was water, and crawled far under it
until he reached the wall beyond, squirming on his face and stomach,
and flattening out his arms and legs. Then he lay motionless, holding
back his breath, and listening to the beating of his heart and to the
footsteps on the stairs. The footsteps stopped on the landing leading
to the outer room, and he could hear the murmur of voices as the two
men questioned one another.
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