Part 37 (2/2)

”Do you speak the truth?” said Hardwicke. ”If you deceive me, I'll butcher you! Speak quickly! You've got just one chance to save transportation for life now!”

The coward thief muttered: ”The old man is on his way back from St.

Heliers, and Hawke's got a dozen French fellows to run the girl off and perhaps 'do up' the old man. But he wanted this same stuff. He's a downy cove!”

While Jack Blunt worked upon the lover's fears, ”Prince Djiddin's”

hands, on an exploring tour, drew out a knife and two revolvers from the captured burglar's wideawake coat. He picked up the bulky bundle which the thief had dropped, and saw the bank seals of Calcutta and the insurance labels thereon. ”I'll give you a show. Keep silent!” cried Hardwicke as he cut the cords on the fellow's legs. Then grasping him by the neck, he dragged him bodily to the door of the ”Moonshee's” room, where he thrust him in. Then he locked the door, and knocking on his own, induced the frightened Janet Fairbarn to open at last. The poor woman screamed as ”Prince Djiddin” calmly said: ”Go and rouse up the girls. Send one of them to bring the gardener and his two men over here.

I've got the thief locked up.”

”My G.o.d! who are you?” screamed the affrighted Scotswoman, as the Prince dropped into English.

”I'm an English officer, madam. Don't be a fool. Rouse these people.

There's been one crime already committed, and there may be another.

There's no one else in the house. Get the three men over here at once to me. I'll stand guard over this thief.” Then as Janet Fairbarn fled away shrieking and yelling, Harry Hardwicke locked the recovered package in his own trunk, which stood in his room. Bounding across the hall, he then dragged his captive over the way and thrust him in a helpless heap into a chair. Before Hardwicke was dressed, he had extorted the secret of the rendezvous at the old Martello tower.

”Now, sir, no one has seen you yet,” said Hardwicke. ”If you guide me there and save her, you shall cut stick. If you betray me, then, by G.o.d, you shall die on the spot.” A groan of acquiescence sealed the bargain, as the three gardeners, armed with bili-hooks and pruning-knives, now burst into the room. ”One of you stay here with the women. Light up the whole house now. Let no one leave it till I return. Now, you two, each take a pistol. Get your lanterns, at once, and a good club each. Come back instantly here.”

The procession was descending the stair, when there was heard a vigorous knocking on the front door. As it opened, the excited ”Moonshee”

leaped into the hallway. ”What's up?” he cried, forgetting his a.s.sumed character. ”I came over, for I had a telegram that the Stella was in with old Fraser and Nadine. The General sent a special messenger to me.”

”Run up and get my saber and your own pistol and join me! There's foul play here! The house is all right! Come on, for G.o.d's sake!” shouted Harry Hardwicke. He led his captive by the trebled bell cord pa.s.sed with double hitches around the burglar's pinioned arms, and the Moonshee now leaped back--ready to take a man's part--for he easily divined the treachery.

Out into the wild night they hurried, leaving behind them the barricaded ”Banker's Folly,” now gleaming with lights. ”Where in h.e.l.l is Simpson?”

demanded Eric Murray, as he struggled along clutching the gleaming tulwar tightly in his hand.

”Drunk at Rozel Pier, I suppose!” bitterly answered Hardwicke. ”Come here and just p.r.i.c.k this fellow up into a trot!”

As they hastened on, Prince Djiddin succeeded at last in convincing the two gardeners that he was not a ghost, but a reincarnated Englishman who had been larking disguised as a Hindu Prince. ”What's the devilish game, anyway?” puffed out Captain Murray, still in the dark, as they struggled on in the darkness along the road.

”Hawke has tried to kidnap Nadine!” hastily cried Hardwicke.

”My G.o.d! what's that?” They soon came up to an overturned carriage. The traces had been cut, and the horses and driver were not visible. The gardener's lantern showed to them only the insensible form of the maid, Mattie Jones, who lay moaning in a sheer exhaustion of terror. ”How far is it to the tower?” almost yelled Hardwicke, his heart frozen with a new terror. ”They have murdered her, my poor darling!”

”The tower is now about three hundred yards away!” said the gardener, as Hardwicke sternly dragged his reluctant prisoner along.

”On, on!” he cried. ”We may even now be too late!” They were only a hundred yards from the tower, when the sound of rapid pistol shots was heard, wafted down the wind, and a confused sound of cries on the cliff was wafted to them, as a dozen twinkling lantern lights appeared on the brow of the bluff.

”It's a rescue party!” joyously cried Murray. ”Hurry! hurry on to the tower!”

With cheering cries, the pursuers neared the old Martello tower, and a clump of dark forms vanished quickly into the shrubbery as the three lanterns were flashed full upon the door. Eric Murray, sword in hand, was the first man at the entrance, as a desperate a.s.sailant leaped from the narrow door and sprang upon him, pistol in hand. There was the snap of a clicking lock and then the sound of a hollow groan, for the robber's pistol had missed fire, and Captain Murray ran the wretch through the body with the razor-bladed tulwar!

There was a silence broken only by the trampling of approaching feet, as Red Eric flashed the light in the face of his fallen foe, for the storm had spent its fury and the stars were gleaming out at last.

”By G.o.d! It's Hawke, himself!” he shrieked. ”Alan Hawke, a midnight robber!” But, Harry Hardwicke, with the two men at his back, had dashed on into the gun-room of the old tower, leaving Murray with his prostrate foe--empty, not a sign of any human presence.

With one wild cry Hardwicke turned to the door, ”Nadine! Nadine!” he yelled, and his voice sounded unearthly in the night winds.

And then, from over their heads, a cheery hail replied, ”All right, on deck! The lady is safe up here with me. I am Professor Hobbs, the American. Who are you?”

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