CHAPTER V.

A PAIR OF HANDCUFFS.

The fellow had walked some way in the direction of the house after

vaulting the fence, but now he turned and retraced his steps towards

the spot where I was lying, with my legs drawn up to my body. As he

stopped to bend over me, I let out with my left foot, as viciously as a

kicking horse, taking him in the stomach, and with such force that he

doubled up like a hinged draught-board, and lay quite still.

Then I leapt to my feet.

"Jones! Jim! Wilson!" I shouted, using, haphazard, the first names

which came to my tongue. "Here they are! Over the fence as fast as you

can, and we'll nab the two of 'em!"

As I spoke I kicked out a heel behind me, scraping it against the fence

as if someone were endeavouring to clamber up on the other side.

"Fast as you can!" I yelled again, making noise enough for three, and

rushing in the direction of the other man, shouting as I ran.

The dodge succeeded; for supposing, as I wished him to suppose, that he

had walked into a police ambush, he made a bolt for the house, I after

him, still yelling imaginary instructions to imaginary men.

No sooner was he gone than I whipped back to the other fellow, who I

suppose had fainted from pain, for he lay quite still where he had

fallen. But he was armed, as I knew, for I had heard the leader tell

the two of them not to hesitate to shoot. I had run risks enough, and

more than enough for my liking, on this eventful evening; so, partly

to equip myself with a weapon, in case of the other man's discovering

my ruse and returning, partly to disarm the gentleman on the ground,

in the event of his recovering consciousness sufficiently to join in

the pursuit of me, I slipped my hand into his pocket in search of

fire-arms. The first thing on which I lighted was, strangely enough, a

pair of handcuffs, and, under the impulse of the moment, I snapped them

around the unconscious man's wrists. Then, having possessed myself of

his weapon--an ugly revolver--I walked to the fence and looked over

it, in preparation to vault. The river washed almost to the fence's

foot, and, but for the fact that a boat was fastened to a stake driven

into the mud, my retreat would have been entirely cut off. Evidently

Parker and Smudgy must have taken a boat from somewhere to get round to

the back of the place. That, then, was what the leader had meant when

he spoke of the "yard," and had urged them to "put their backs into it."

Oh, well! the boat which had served their purpose would serve mine.

But stop a minute. No one was coming from the house, where I could

still hear the besiegers battering at the kitchen door. It was a

daring idea, this of mine! But why shouldn't I carry it out? To take

a prisoner, instead of myself being taken prisoner or being murdered,

would be to turn the tables on my enemies with a vengeance. The man was

unconscious; he was handcuffed; and even if he proved to be heavy, I

knew myself to be fairly strong.

Kneeling on one knee, I raised his insensible body so that his head

and chest and trunk lay inertly over my left shoulder, where I could

best bear the weight. The next thing to do was to get upon my feet.

It was not easy of accomplishment, for the man was heavily built, and

I, though tall, am somewhat slight. But I managed it at last, and

staggered to the fence, upon which I hoisted my burden, where he lay

for all the world like a straw-stuffed Guy Fawkes, his silly head and

his body and shoulders lolling helplessly towards the river, his hips

and legs hanging down limply on the side of the fence that faced the

house. Then I scrambled over myself, muttering, "You come along o' me

to Westminster, my pretty. A man who can hang both sides of a fence, as

you can, is wasted outside of Parliament."

I hauled him over, a bit at a time, until at last I was able to lower

him gently to the ground. Then I dragged him--through the water I am

sorry to say--to the boat, and with no small difficulty contrived to

tumble him in. This was the most troublesome part of the business,

for the boat behaved as coyly as a girl when a sweetheart tries to

snatch a first kiss--dodging this way and that, ducking and dipping,

till the pair of us were like to be thrown headlong into the water.

But I achieved my purpose at last, and having lashed my captive's

ankles together with the rope--the "painter" yachtsmen call it, do they

not?--by which the boat had been fastened, I took up the oars and rowed

out into mid-river.

By this time my captive was beginning to show signs of returning

consciousness, his revival being accelerated, no doubt, by the wetting

he had received in being dragged into the boat. Apparently he was still

in pain from my kick, for he groaned feebly once or twice, and then

moaned: "I feel sick."

"Yes," I said, "and you'll feel sicker before I've done with you."

It was brutal to speak thus to a man defenceless, and in pain; but I

had been under a terrible strain that evening, and now that the danger

was passed, the inevitable reaction had come, and none could have

been more surprised than I was to find the reaction take the form of

something like savagery. By nature I am by no means vindictive; but,

remembering that this very man had gone round to the back of the opium

den with the deliberate intention of murdering me, I took, I am ashamed

to say, a cruel and catlike pleasure in having him thus at my mercy,

and in seeing him a prey to the same terrors which I had been compelled

to endure. Police magistrates and His Majesty's judges may to-day

replace the rude justice of the primæval forest; but in spite of the

humanising and refining influence of civilisation, the beast in us dies

hard.

"Where am I?" he inquired, trying to raise his head.

"You're clearly a man of very little originality," I said, still

exulting savagely in having him at my mercy, instead of being--as

earlier in the evening I was like to be--at his. "'Where am I?' is what

they all say--whether on the stage, or in a novel, or in real life--on

recovering from a faint. But, if you particularly wish to know where

you are, I don't mind telling you. You are in a boat on the river

Thames, somewhere off Limehouse; but you'll be in even less comfortable

quarters before long, if I'm not much mistaken."

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "anyone listening to our conversation might think

that I was 'A' and you were 'Q' in Mangnall's book of Questions and

Answers. I should think you'd know who I was without having to make

so many inquiries, Mr. Parker. I'm the man you and your friend Smudgy

were told off to murder not so very many minutes ago. Now you are my

prisoner, and with your very kind permission, or without it, I'm going

to hand you over to the police."

"For God's sake don't do that!" he cried, trying to rise. This his

handcuffed wrists and bound ankles prevented him from accomplishing;

finding which, to my surprise and dismay, he fell back blubbering like

a baby.

"Give me a chance, Mr. Grant," he begged. "I've gone against the law I

know, but I've been drove to it, sir, drove to it by being out of work

so long."

"Look here," I said; "tell me what you and the man you call the

Dumpling and the other rascals are after, and if I find you've told

me the truth and kept nothing back, I'll let you go. It is your only

chance; and considering the way you'd have treated me, I think it is a

very generous offer.

"There's a mystery, and it strikes me a very wicked and criminal

mystery, about all this--that opium den with its crucible, and

chemicals, and queer instruments in the kitchen, the Dumpling, the

Chinamen, yourself, and the other men. I've got to know all about it,

and to know it now and here, this night, and in this boat. Make a clean

breast of it; tell me everything, and I'll let you go. Refuse, and I

take you straight, handcuffed and tied up as you are, to the police.

Come, no beating about the bush. Which is it to be? 'Yes' or 'No'?"

"I can't help myself," he answered. "You say you've got to know about

the Dumpling and the house, and the rest of us, and what we're after,

and that I've got to choose between telling and being handed over to

the police. You swear, you take your Davy, you'll let me go free if I

tell?"

"I swear it," I said. "Tell me all, and I swear to loose you and put

you ashore free and unfollowed--when you've done."

"Very well," he replied sullenly, doggedly. "I'll tell. But the

Dumpling"--with an oath--"will find me out and kill me if he gets to

know that I've peached."

"We'll hope he doesn't hear," I said, settling myself down to listen,

but pulling gently at the oars meantime.

Then Parker began his story.

The Dumpling · 第 5 / 39 章