MUTINY AND A MESMERIST.
"You noisy fool, Wright!" he said, still holding me in his iron grip.
"I heard you ranting in the street outside." Then, "Am I hurting you,
Mr. Rissler?" he asked.
Foolishly I opened my mouth to reply, but hardly had I done so before a
handkerchief was thrust between my lips, and stuffed the next instant
half-way down my throat.
"Now, Wright," he said, "you can tie his hands and feet while I hold
him. Do it so that the knot won't give, but carefully, so as not to
hurt him. Come along, my good man! You are very slow! Do as I bid you,
and be quick about it!"
Somewhat to my surprise, and more so, evidently, to the Dumpling's,
Wright refused point-blank.
"I won't," he said, not budging from where he stood. "The gentleman's
been kind to me and mine, and lift a hand against him I won't."
"Do as I bid you!" was the answer, in a voice that was almost a hiss.
"I won't," was the dogged reply.
The next jiffey I was lifted off my feet by the Dumpling's powerful
arms, and, before I knew what he was about, I was lying upon my back on
the floor, bewildered but unharmed.
Putting a knee upon my chest, and holding me down meanwhile with both
hands, he raised his head and looked Wright straight in the eyes.
For the space of a few seconds the fellow stood gaping at the Dumpling
as if fascinated. Then his eyes dulled to a fixed, foolish stare, and
finally the lids of them drooped and closed. He was mesmerised--that
fact was evident.
"Open your eyes," the Dumpling commanded.
Wright did so.
"Put your hand in my right-side pocket, and you'll find a strap."
Automatically the other obeyed.
"Strap his ankles securely. No; it is no use your struggling, Rissler,"
he went on, as, getting my feet against the wainscot for leverage, I
put all my strength into an effort to throw him off.
Then, looking over his shoulder, he inquired:
"Have you got that strap, Wright?"
"I have got the strap," the other replied mechanically.
"Then be ready to use it," said the Dumpling. "Slip it around his
ankles when I say 'Now'!"
Still holding me down with both hands, he suddenly straddled his
powerful knees open, as if they had been a pair of nut-crackers,
and the two legs of me--outside which his own legs now lay--the two
halves of a walnut. Then he closed his knees, clipping mine together
within them, as the pair of crackers might clip the shell; and though
I struggled with all my strength, for I was furious at finding myself
proved to be not only as a child in his hands, but as an infant upon
his knees--or between them--I knew, when I heard him say 'Now,' that I
was as neatly hobbled as any horse.
"It's a pity you put us and yourself to all this unnecessary trouble,"
he said philosophically. "Now, then, Wright, look in his pockets for a
handkerchief, and lash his wrists while I hold them together."
As he spoke, the five fingers of his right hand closed on my left hand,
as the talons of a pouncing hawk close upon a field-mouse.
Then, in spite of my futile efforts, he drew my left hand towards my
right, and suddenly spanning the two with the fingers of his single
hand, nonchalantly arranging the set of his collar with the other
meanwhile, he said:
"Now, Wright, just tie his wrists together, will you?" and once again
the mesmerised man did as he was bidden.
Rising, the Dumpling turned from me to Wright. Looking that worthy full
in the eyes, he said, in a low voice:
"You are awake."
"I am awake," repeated Wright, automatically, as his eyes, still fixed
in a stupid stare, turned sluggishly in their sockets, following his
master's movements.
Lifting his dropped left arm slightly, the Dumpling touched, with a
finger tip, the finger tips of the other's loosely open hand. Then he
put his right hand on Wright's shoulder, and with a gentle shake, said:
"Wake!"
Wright came to himself with a start, and looked foolishly around.
"What did you mean by disobeying me just now?" asked the Dumpling with
sudden fierceness.
"I'm sorry, sir; I never done it before, as you know, and I'm sorry
if I opened my mouth too wide and made a noise. Me and mine has gone
through hard times since you were here last. The money you left us
was finished nigh upon two weeks ago, and not knowing where you
was, and not being able to get any work, we've had nothing to eat.
This gentleman here has been very kind to us, and though I've never
disobeyed you before, sir, I couldn't lift hand against him, and that's
a fact."
The Dumpling seemed genuinely concerned.
"Has it been so bad as that with you, my poor fellow?" he said gravely.
"Humphreys shall answer to me for this. I had to be away, it's true,
but I left plenty of money with him for all requirements, and I
particularly told him that no one, who is in with us, should be allowed
to want.
"I'm glad my friend on the floor has been good to you," he continued.
"He's of the right stuff, and ought to be with us, Wright--will be with
us one day, I hope and believe. You needn't be anxious about him. I
don't mean to do him any harm. On the contrary, I want to do him a good
turn, if he'll let me. My reason for gagging him was because, when I
first came in, I thought you and he were quarrelling. One doesn't do
a man any serious amount of damage by sticking a piece of rag in his
mouth and tying him up for a half-hour. He, on the other hand, not
understanding the situation, and supposing himself to be in danger,
might have called out and brought the police about our ears. He'd be
sorry for it after, when he knew the facts, so we protected ourselves,
and protected him against himself, by taking the precaution of making
sure of him first. See?
"Well, now, I want to have a few words with the gentleman, and I can do
so better if he and I are alone. You stay outside the door meanwhile,
Wright, and see that no one comes in."
Wright gone, and the door closed and locked, the Dumpling turned to me.
"Now, Mr. Rissler, to finish our interrupted conversation of the other
night. But first of all about that gag. If I take it off, will you give
me your promise, your parole, not to call or cry out, or do anything to
bring outsiders in? Nod if you agree. Shake your head, if not."
I nodded.
"All right," he said. "But you'll be more comfortable sitting up, with
your back to the wall, than lying on the floor full length. See, I'll
prop you up that way, and now to take off the gag."
While he was doing so I was planning a little surprise for him. Up to
now he had, no doubt, for reasons of his own, been very careful to
conceal his name from me. He had, to be sure, declared himself to be
Napoleon, but Napoleon's present address is not to be found in any
directory available for the purpose.
That my theory of the identity of John Carleton, of No. 5, Taunton
Square, with the man whom I knew as the Dumpling was correct, I was,
in my own mind, entirely persuaded; but I was shy of theories, and
anxious to replace them by actual knowledge. I was curious, too, to see
what effect the fact that his real name was known to me would have
upon him. Would he admit it? Would he deny it? Would it arouse him to
anger or to fear? Means of knowing I had none, other than by putting
the matter to the test; so, no sooner was I sitting up, with the gag
removed, than I looked him straight in the face and shot my bolt.
"Well, and how are you, Mr. John Carleton?" I said.