A bundle of rags huddled in the doorway of one of the shaky old houses took unto itself life and height. In a gargoyle face snaky eyes balefully glistened at the sight of prey. The boys, who in a moment of indecision had stopped within earshot of this hideous, hidden thing, were about to resume their way through this wretched street, in the scant hope of finding some clew to their whereabouts under the feeble glow from the dimly distant lamp-post. If there had ever been any gendarmes bold enough to regularly patrol this gruesome thoroughfare, these heroes were certainly not in evidence now. They must either have gone directly to war[180] or were on guard in some more prosperous locality.
In fact, this dilapidated neighborhood appeared to be generally deserted, for even of prowlers not a one up to the minute had given a sign of open movement in the long square.
There had been a lamplighter at the crossing, however, and that was something on which to hang a belief that there might be more of his kind further on.
“Say, Henri, I don’t believe graveyards were mentioned in the directions Gilbert gave you.”
“This is no joke, Jimmy, and you would never have seen the like in Paris if it wasn’t for the war. To save my life, though, I can’t imagine where all the people that belong here could have gone.”
“There are some that we might not care to meet after dark,” suggested Billy.
As they talked the boys were groping their way over the rough cobbles toward the one promise—meaning the lamp-post.
As they passed, single file, the blank front of a tenement where the crooked street curved inward, a crouching, cat-like something leaped from the rear upon Henri’s shoulders, and clawing fingers sought his throat.
Henri wildly struggling to break the strangle hold of the wiry arms, and bewildered by the shock[181] of sudden assault, made no outcry, and Billy, next in line, did not realize for an instant or two what had happened to his comrade.
He felt a loose stone under his foot in the worn and broken pavement, in a second made a weapon of it, and poised alert to strike at the assailant of his chum. The streak of lamplight was so flickering and uncertain, and Henri being dragged further and further into the deepest shadow of the overhanging doorway—the web of the human spider—that Billy feared to risk a chance blow.
In the meantime, Jimmy and Reddy, warned by quick ears, had turned to face the shuffling charge of another creature of the night. There were more of the spiders, it seemed.
Billy found an opening to lay a sounding whack with the flat stone on the back of the writhing thing that hung upon the shoulders of his friend, and such was the force of the blow that Henri was freed for a moment from the horrid embrace.
He struck out blindly for himself and knocked the bundle of rags into a shrunken heap upon the pavement. The fallen creature uttered an acute, piercing sound, and slinking shapes responded, front and rear.
Reddy had used a French close-fighting trick, and planted a kick under the chin of the assailant with whom Jimmy and himself were contending, and the English boy made his count with a straight-from-the-shoulder[182] right blow right on the beak of another onrushing shape.
“Together, boys! Together!”
Billy’s fighting blood was up.
The four closed in, dashed forward several yards and backed against the door of the tenement just around the curve and where the street ran straight. This gave them the advantage of all the light the crossing lamp-post afforded. It was not much, but as ............