AN EXHIBIT OF NERVE.
Ricker and his companion, however, took a route that relieved the wary
watchers of the necessity of doing lively footwork to keep out of sight.
The path followed was that across the platform toward the top of the
stairway descending to the basement. Through the opening there the pair
disappeared.
The first thought then with the boys was to immediately release the
prisoner in the counting house from his uncomfortable predicament, but a
second thought made this preceding one for debate. Through no fault of
their own, and, unconsciously, the lads had been indirectly connected
with recent Warsaw operations of Ricker, and to be well rid of him was a
matter of self-protection. Having squared themselves with the Cossack,
Nikita, the passing of the silversmith would be a final clearance of old
scores.
"Let's give them an hour's leeway, and then we'll cut his nobs loose,"
suggested Henri; "the chap in there would start something mighty quick
the minute he got on his feet, and there's no telling what might be
coming to us if Ricker was brought to bay. He'd surely think we had
betrayed him."
"Yes, and come to think of it, as we did before, the authorities here
might not accept graciously our plea of innocence. We'd get it both
going and coming. Plenty of time to untie the policeman. He ought to be
thankful that it is only one hour instead of twenty-four, and maybe a
good sight longer than that, if we did not interfere."
Billy's conclusion would have stood as satisfactory but for a startling
development of the instant. Some intuitive process of the mind caused
him to cast a glance over his shoulder, and within twenty feet of him,
coming with cat-like tread from the far front of the warehouse, was the
threatening shape of Hamar. It is doubtful if the hairy henchman of
Ricker was then aware of the presence of the boys, and if he had any
special purpose for carrying an unsheathed knife in his hand, the reason
must be accounted for in the person of the unfortunate policeman on the
counting house floor. Hamar was of the fiery brand of conspirator who
resented any application of law, and woe to the man who affronted him.
The poisoned ring episode was an instance in point.
Henri, gazing in another direction, for the moment, was wholly oblivious
of the new peril at hand until apprised by a hiss from Billy. Half
turning, the French boy was looking full into the malignant face of the
velvet-footed oncomer.
With a side leap that covered several feet, Henri dashed around the
cabin, meeting his chum, who had jumped on the other side, at the front
entrance, both crossing the threshold at one step, and banging the door
behind them. Billy grabbed at the bolt just over the latch, and sent it
with a snap into its socket.
"Gee whillikens," he panted, "that was some acrobatic act!"
The door creaked and cracked with the outside pressure that a powerful
and infuriated man was exerting against it.
The boys hastily dragged forward the several heavy benches in the room
and stacked them up for an additional and supporting barrier.
The next move was to free the policeman, who, though carrying a lot of
surplus flesh, would apparently make a fair bid as a full hand in a
fight.
Relieved of the gag, what the officer had to say about his late captors
was red-hot Russian. When Henri had severed, with his pocket-knife, the
last strand of the confining cord, the big policeman regained his feet
with astonishing alacrity for such a heavyweight. He speedily worked the
stiffness out of his joints by swinging his arms about like a windmill
and vigorously stamping up and down the few feet of floor space.
Shrewdly surmising that his rescuers were not conversant with the native
tongue, he asked in French: "How many of them out there?"
The door was rattling ominously, and one of the hinges gave way with a
scattering of screw fastenings.
"One," answered Henri, "but he's a corker--the fellow with the hair
mattress around his ears."
"Oh, oh," exclaimed the policeman, "I gave him a rap with my stick
before they downed me. He's of strange breed, not like the rest."
The thought came to both Billy and Henri that Hamar was here to exact
blood atonement for the mentioned blow.
The policeman wrenched a heavy oak brace from one of the benches, tested
its heft by a long arm swing over his head, and grimly remarked:
"This will drop him if he comes through."
The door gave way with a crash, the piled up benches toppling with the
impact, and on top of the whole mass the tiger man with dagger drawn.
Before the fierce intruder could recover his balance, the policeman with
bench brace poised for action brought the oaken weapon down with
terrific force on the raised right arm of Hamar, a muscle-numbing
stroke, which relaxed the latter's grip on the haft of the glittering
blade and sent it spinning under the counter across the room. A second
blow cut into his forehead.
The men grappled, swayed to and fro in interlocked fury, rolled over the
fallen door and out upon the platform. Hamar was at a disadvantage by
reason of the blinding effect of blood from the forehead wound, and it
was evident that he was seeking to break away from his burly antagonist.
Billy and Henri, wildly excited over the fray, danced around the
combatants, narrowly escaping at times a bruising jab from whirling
heels.
The fight ranged closer and closer to the head of the basement stairway,
the plain intent of the policeman's hairy adversary.
Here it was, by some cunning wrestler's trick, that Hamar broke the hold
of the heavyweight, bounded through the opening and down the stairs with
an agility that baffled interference.
The policeman, though winded by exertion, did not delay pursuit, and he
was not far behind his wily foe when the latter paused for a second as
though hesitating over the course to take.
The boys, in the immediate wake of the doughty officer, saw that the
fugitive was making the run back in the same direction that they had
followed in coming. Speeding along with the policeman, their judgment as
to this was verified in the passing under an arch out of which several
large stones had fallen.
"He's making for the chimney grating," advised Billy.
The policeman, under ordinary conditions, might have yielded to
detective instinct and asked the boy how he knew so much, but this was
no time for cross-examination by him, racing through a cellar after a
fight for life, and in eager pursuit of a desperate and dangerous enemy.
Hamar had climbed the spikes to the chimney base, and by the time the
policeman got his head through the grating was shinning up the big
smokestack like a monkey.
The trio in the rear swarmed up the handholds in close pursuit, the fat
officer puffing and growling at every reach.
From the wide expanse of the warehouse roof could be seen, quite near,
the channel of the Vistula river. Hamar had reached the extreme west
line of the elevation, and was looking down into the void that
effectually blocked further flight.
"I have him now," exulted the big policeman, hurrying forward.
But it was not a sure thing, after all.
Directly beneath the coping, over which Hamar was leaning, rose the
rigging of a great crane, the mighty arm of which was lifting with
mechanical regularity to swing heavily weighted sacks from the wharf
into the hold of a waiting collier.
Hardly ten feet separated the pursuer and the pursued, when Hamar
bestrode the coping--now he is over and hanging by his hands--now he
drops into the crane rigging--then crawling out on the swinging arm, he
is swept in wide circle over the dizzy height--now he slides down the
chains, now astride the sack just hooked--now lowered with the weight of
coal into the vessel!
During the exhibit of daring, from the first sight of the perilous
descent on the chains to the final dump, the stevedores stood aghast and
open-mouthed.
As for the policeman and the boys, looking out and down upon the
astonishing performance, none of them had a word to say for several
minutes after it was all over.
"Gee whiz, but wasn't that the limit?"
It was Billy who broke the breath-holding period.
When the policeman awakened from his temporary trance, he was very much
awake.
"There is still a live chance to nab him," he exclaimed, "if we can only
get down there before the collier clears. Once out in the channel and
that fool is liable to drown himself."
If the officer had only known it, the man he most wanted, and upon whose
head was the far greater price, even now was a stowaway in the very ship
into which Hamar had been tumbled.