A PARLEY
"You're more hefty with tools than I am," said Pratt to Armstrong. "So
if you'll run upstairs and smash that chain off my uncle, I'll keep an
eye on what's happening outside."
"Right," replied Armstrong. "The hammer strikes me as a bit light for
the job, but one can only try. Yell if you want me."
Taking the hammer and chisel, he leapt up the winding staircase to the
topmost room. Mr. Pratt was thoughtfully drawing his fingers through
his beard.
"So you are the third member of the trio," he said.
"Yes, I'm Armstrong. If you'll kindly stretch the chain tight over the
edge of the bed, I'll do my best to break a link. I'm afraid I shall
jar you, but----"
"Don't consider that. Make your break as near my leg as you can."
"I'll break the loop. Are you ready, sir?"
"Quite."
For perhaps two minutes the room echoed and re-echoed with the metallic
din of hammering. The chisel was of finely tempered steel, and Armstrong
compensated the lightness of the hammer by the vigour of his blows. A
link snapped, the chain clanked upon the floor, and the prisoner stood
up, free.
"Very neatly done," said he. "And now I will go below and join you and
your companions in a council of war."
"There are only two of us now, sir," said Armstrong. "Warrender didn't
come back."
As they went downstairs he related succinctly the events of the last
three-quarters of an hour. Mr. Pratt made no comment. Entering first
the room at the bottom, he threw a glance on the printing press, the
piles of paper, and the Swede glowering on the floor; then he turned to
his nephew.
"Well, Percy, what is going on?" he asked.
"Nothing, Uncle. I haven't seen any of the men. D'you think they see
the game is up, and have bolted?"
"I think not, judging by what your friend has just told me. It appears
that they have captured the other man--Warrender, I think you called
him--and they know that you two are here. It seems improbable that they
will decamp already. They outnumber you hopelessly, and it is more than
likely that there is a large number of forged notes in the tower which
they will secure if they can."
"Well, as the coast seems clear, can't we get away?" asked Percy. "We
came to rescue you; our job's done."
"But, if you'll permit me, mine is just beginning," said Mr. Pratt. "Do
you suppose that I'd be content to walk meekly away, and let the pack of
scoundrels who have made my house a hotbed of crime get off with the
fruits of their villainy?" The old gentleman spoke warmly. "I've
knocked about the world for more than thirty years, been in many tight
corners, and I've never knuckled under to man, beast, or circumstance.
This is the tightest of them all, and, by the Lord Harry, I'll make a
fight for it. You young fellows----"
"We're with you, sir," cried Armstrong, enthusiastically.
"Rather!" exclaimed Pratt. "If you're game, Uncle Ambrose----"
"Let us keep cool," returned his uncle. "I'm no longer under any
illusions as to the character of the wretches I was misguided enough to
employ. They are forgers--that is bad enough--but before they were
forgers they were anarchists, members of that fraternity of fools whose
ideas, put into practice, would turn the world into a hell. There are
no more reckless malefactors than these international gangs who exercise
their criminal propensities under the cloak of political enthusiasm.
Make no mistake, young fellows; in resisting Gradoff and his gang we
take our lives in our hands. In their eyes we are of less value than
rats."
"We've got to keep 'em out, then," said Percy.
"Let us keep cool, I repeat. Let us discuss the situation."
"Yes, sir," said Armstrong, somewhat amazed at the professional manner
of the old gentleman; "but time's flying, and----"
"Therefore it is vitally important that we should focus our attention.
As I read the situation, we shall have to stand a siege. Gradoff
determines to save his forged notes, if not his accomplice yonder. The
question is, what will he do?"
"I know what I'd do if I----" began Pratt, but his uncle silenced him
with a gesture.
"What you would do is not in question. What Gradoff will do we must
infer from the probabilities. His final aim must be to get away quickly
with his booty. His booty is inaccessible while we hold the tower.
Therefore he must either persuade or compel us to let him in. Finding
persuasion, reinforced by menace, futile, he will attempt compulsion.
That is to say, he will bring up all his men and try to force the door.
It is useless for us to blink facts--just peep through the crack, Percy,
and see if he is already moving."
Percy reported that still there was no one in sight.
"Then we will continue our calm conference. Gradoff had four men under
him at my house. One of them, Jensen, the Swede, lies there. From what
you tell me he employs also Rush, and another foreigner whom I have
never seen. You tell me that two strangers--by their appearance
foreigners--came with him to the tower to-day. Therefore we are three
against eight."
"But we are inside," said Percy.
"As a chicken is inside an egg. The shell can be cracked. That door,
stout as it is, can be hacked through, blown in, or battered down.
Probably they will not risk an explosion; it might attract even our
stolid village policeman to the scene. Defending our position with such
poor weapons as we have, we cannot prevent the enemy from sooner or
later forcing an entrance."
"These are surely arguments for scuttling, sir, while we have time,"
said Armstrong.
"I am not arguing, but calmly stating facts," returned Mr. Pratt.
"Scuttle! Is it conceivable that I shall scuttle for fear of this
pirate crew, who have half-starved me, chained me up, carried on their
dastardly work under my roof? But let me keep cool," he added, checking
the tide of indignation. "The villains break in, I say, sooner or later.
What then? With your assistance I propose to defend the stairs. The
winding of the staircase is in favour of the defence. In so narrow a
space the assailants lose the advantage of numbers. With resolution we
shall hold our own."
"But that can't go on indefinitely, Uncle," said Pratt. "They could
starve us out."
"Hardly; for this reason. You will be missed from your camp. Mr.
Crawshay, you tell me, knows that you are making investigations. Your
prolonged absence will alarm him; he will raise a hue and cry. Gradoff
is perfectly aware that what he has to do must be done quickly. If we
can withstand him for twenty-four hours, he is a beaten man."
"You think, then, sir, that they will give it up within twenty-four
hours and then bolt?" said Armstrong.
"That is my forecast. They will save their skins and lose their forged
notes, which are no doubt hidden away somewhere in the tower. Take
another look out, Percy."
The boy peered through the crack in the boarding, and again reported no
one in sight.
"Come with me to the roof," said his uncle. "From there we can survey a
wide extent of the park. Armstrong will oblige me by remaining on
guard."
He led the way up the stairs to the topmost room. Here he opened a low
door in the wall, which gave access to a short flight of steps leading
to the flat roof. Looking out towards the river, they saw a group of
men gathered about the well-head. A moment later they caught sight of
Gradoff and the two strangers approaching the tower from the direction
of the house. Mr. Pratt leant over the parapet in full view, watching
them. One of the strangers noticed him, and caught Gradoff by the arm.
The Russian looked up, halted, and seemed for a moment to be taken
aback. The three men spoke rapidly together, then advanced to the foot
of the tower. Gradoff tried the door. Retreating a few steps, he
called up--
"Hola!"
"Well?" said Mr. Pratt, leaning on the parapet.
"Come down and open the door. I have a proposition to make."
"Make it now. I can hear you quite well."
"You have Olof Jensen in the tower?"
"He is a prisoner. Yes."
"I also have a prisoner--one of three boys. I exchange him for Jensen,
on condition that you come out with the other two."
"And then?"
"You shall go free, provided you promise to remain quietly in the park
for two hours and do not approach the house."
"You would accept my promise?"
"Certainly."
"And what assurance have I that you would keep yours?"
"You have my word, witnessed by my friends here."
"And what is your word worth, by whomsoever witnessed?"
Gradoff's habitual smoothness left him. Shaking his fist, he shouted--
"I will show you what my word is worth. If you do not unbolt the door
we shall kill you like--like a dog. I give you one minute."
Mr. Pratt leant motionless on the parapet, gazing down at the three men
with a grim smile. Beside him his nephew, tingling with excitement,
felt unbounded admiration for this strange uncle of his. The minute
passed in silence. Gradoff, watch in hand, paced restlessly about. His
friends stood together.
At the end of the minute Gradoff thrust his watch into his pocket.
"Look out, Uncle!" cried Percy.
One of the strangers had whipped out a revolver with extraordinary
rapidity and fired point-blank at the motionless figure above. Mr.
Pratt did not wince--showed neither fear nor agitation. Slowly
unfolding his arms, he stood erect and turned to his nephew.
"Come," he said, "I think it is time we went below."