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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
"
I
’
ll
do
nothing
of
the
sort
,
"
said
my
uncle
.
‘
"
Very
well
,
then
stop
where
you
are
,
"
said
the
guard
.
‘
"
I
will
,
"
said
my
uncle
.
‘
"
Do
,
"
said
the
guard
.
‘
The
passengers
had
regarded
this
colloquy
with
great
attention
,
and
,
finding
that
my
uncle
was
determined
not
to
alight
,
the
younger
man
squeezed
past
him
,
to
hand
the
lady
out
.
At
this
moment
,
the
ill
-
looking
man
was
inspecting
the
hole
in
the
crown
of
his
three
-
cornered
hat
.
As
the
young
lady
brushed
past
,
she
dropped
one
of
her
gloves
into
my
uncle
’
s
hand
,
and
softly
whispered
,
with
her
lips
so
close
to
his
face
that
he
felt
her
warm
breath
on
his
nose
,
the
single
word
"
Help
!
"
Gentlemen
,
my
uncle
leaped
out
of
the
coach
at
once
,
with
such
violence
that
it
rocked
on
the
springs
again
.
‘
"
Oh
!
you
’
ve
thought
better
of
it
,
have
you
?
"
said
the
guard
,
when
he
saw
my
uncle
standing
on
the
ground
.
‘
My
uncle
looked
at
the
guard
for
a
few
seconds
,
in
some
doubt
whether
it
wouldn
’
t
be
better
to
wrench
his
blunderbuss
from
him
,
fire
it
in
the
face
of
the
man
with
the
big
sword
,
knock
the
rest
of
the
company
over
the
head
with
the
stock
,
snatch
up
the
young
lady
,
and
go
off
in
the
smoke
.
On
second
thoughts
,
however
,
he
abandoned
this
plan
,
as
being
a
shade
too
melodramatic
in
the
execution
,
and
followed
the
two
mysterious
men
,
who
,
keeping
the
lady
between
them
,
were
now
entering
an
old
house
in
front
of
which
the
coach
had
stopped
.
They
turned
into
the
passage
,
and
my
uncle
followed
.
‘
Of
all
the
ruinous
and
desolate
places
my
uncle
had
ever
beheld
,
this
was
the
most
so
.
It
looked
as
if
it
had
once
been
a
large
house
of
entertainment
;
but
the
roof
had
fallen
in
,
in
many
places
,
and
the
stairs
were
steep
,
rugged
,
and
broken
.
There
was
a
huge
fireplace
in
the
room
into
which
they
walked
,
and
the
chimney
was
blackened
with
smoke
;
but
no
warm
blaze
lighted
it
up
now
.
The
white
feathery
dust
of
burned
wood
was
still
strewed
over
the
hearth
,
but
the
stove
was
cold
,
and
all
was
dark
and
gloomy
.
‘
"
Well
,
"
said
my
uncle
,
as
he
looked
about
him
,
"
a
mail
travelling
at
the
rate
of
six
miles
and
a
half
an
hour
,
and
stopping
for
an
indefinite
time
at
such
a
hole
as
this
,
is
rather
an
irregular
sort
of
proceeding
,
I
fancy
.
This
shall
be
made
known
.
I
’
ll
write
to
the
papers
.
"
