"Rather a long stroll, Sir Raife, from St James's to the Mall,
Hammersmith, in the middle of the night," said Herrion with a curious
smile. "May I call on you in the morning, sir?" he added.
"Why to be sure, I'll be delighted to see you. But leave that infernal
grip of yours behind," and they both laughed.
At this moment there was a trampling of bushes in the garden behind, the
swinging and slamming of a heavy iron gate, and then a shout: "Stop
him!" A cloaked form, with flowing tie, dashed past a few yards from
where the trio stood. They joined in hot pursuit, but the Apache, for
it was he, was fleet of foot and had a good start. Further, he seemed
to know every alley and byway in this maze of wharves and streets.
Taking part in the chase, Raife was handicapped by his ignorance of the
neighbourhood, and, at the outset, ran into a post in the dark and
placed himself _hors de combat_ in the matter of speed. Raife was a
runner, but to charge full tilt into a post was a sore handicap. After
a while, Herrion, the dapper, little detective-inspector, was the only
one left in the chase, and he ran as well as the Apache, but the Apache
had the start, and, with the inherited cunning of his breed, understood
the art of doubling. The inspector was unfamiliar with these alleys and
slums, and it looked as though the Apache had got clean away. They came
to a _cul de sac_ and there was no trace of him. With the consummate
skill of his class, he had vanished into space and was gone. The two
policemen and Raife retraced their steps and met other officers.
Herrion was not the type of man to abandon his quarry without taxing his
extraordinary resources to the end. He deployed his men to the best of
their knowledge of the locality.
A rat will hide from its pursuer with great cunning, but even a rat will
lose its way in a clumsy manner, sometimes. That Apache had reckoned
without the state of the tide. He had wormed his way out of the _cul de
sac_, and had intended to hide among some launches in one of the creeks
that find their way in shore, if it had not been high tide. He had lost
time, and, in his efforts to redouble his tracks, was sighted by
Herrion, who at once started in pursuit. The Apache turned and ran.
Something caused him to stumble, and over he plunged into the swinging
tide, to be sucked under a barge and drowned--or to escape again. They
searched in vain.