The
Rescuer - Jenny Guttridge
At
last, the seemingly endless rain had stopped, but
underfoot the streets were still slick and water could be
heard running freely in the gutters and drains. Already
the perpetual dank miasma of Paris had started to rise
again into the newly washed air; the stench of massed
people, of unwashed bodies, of the sick and the poor; of
rot and death and decay; of fear and fire and
blood.
Elsewhere
the city was bright with bonfires, this night as every
night, but here a single lantern lighted the street. Long
shadows lay along the walls and filled each nook and
doorway. A chill gust of wind ruffled the surface of a
last puddle. A lean dog snuffled in a corner, then
cringed away and slunk off.
In the
darkest shadow something stirred.
A
figure emerged, deeply hooded, heavily cloaked in shabby
wool, stooped and hunched, clutching a staff in a rag
wrapped hand. For a moment he hesitated as if listening.
From the depths of the hood quick bright eyes scanned the
street. Finding it empty, now even of the dog, the figure
turned and hobbled with remarkable speed to the nearby
corner and vanished round it.
Limping
rapidly and using his stick to probe his way in the
darkness he made his way along the backs of several small
hovels huddled together in a row. With amazing nimbleness
he avoided the heaps of garbage, a stinking unseen
carcass, and the patch of sticky, slippery mud where
slops were thrown and came finally to the rear of a
larger, more imposing but equally ill kept structure of
brick and wood and iron.
He
looked round again, carefully, and then, finding himself
unobserved, he began an amazing transformation. The
stooped back straightened to reveal surprising height,
the hunch unwound into shoulders of elegant breadth, the
hands, unwrapped, lost their crippled appearance.
Discarding
the staff with the rags the figure stepped close to the
stout wooden door that recessed into the back wall of the
building. His hand touched the lock and in a moment there
came a double click that sounded loud in the night. The
door eased open and the figure slipped silently inside.