Part 119 (1/2)
A pair of handcuffs were fastened to his wrists with marvellous celerity, and he was swung into a chair.
”I don't know whether this is a bit of gammon, Mr Pradelle,” said the sergeant sharply, ”but I never lose a chance.”
He paid not the slightest heed to the other occupants of the room, but ran to the window, threw it open, and called to some one below but only his last words were heard by those inside.
”Quick! first one you see, and I'll give you a s.h.i.+lling.”
The sergeant closed the window and crossed to Pradelle.
”If it's a trick it will do you no good. You see, to begin with, it has brought you those.”
”I don't care,” said Pradelle, glowering at Uncle Luke. ”It will take some of the pride out of him, and I shan't go alone.”
”It is a trick, sergeant. Take the scoundrel away.”
”Must make sure, sir. Sorry for the lady, but she may have been deceived that horrible night, and there's more in this than I can understand. Your friend be long, sir?”
”Mr Leslie? I expected him back with you.”
”Mr Leslie went on out into the street, sir. Here, I have it. He has been in hiding down your way, and came up with the lady there.”
”That's it, sergeant, you're a 'cute one,” said Pradelle with a laugh.
”Who has been in hiding?”
”Your nephew, sir. I see it all now. What a fool I've been.”
”My nephew!--Not dead?”
”Harry--brother!” moaned Louise. ”I could do no more. Ah!”
Uncle Luke fell a-trembling as he caught the half-insensible girl's hand, gazing wildly at the sergeant the while.
”Look here, Pradelle, no more nonsense. Will he come back?”
”If you keep quiet of course. Not if he sees you.”
”Ah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the sergeant, crossing to the door as he heard a step; and hurrying out he returned directly with a constable in uniform.
”Stop!” he said shortly, and he nodded to the prisoner. ”Very sorry, Mr Vine, sir,” he then said; ”but you must stay here for a bit. I am going down to wait outside.”
”But Parkins!” cried Uncle Luke, agitatedly, ”I cannot. If this is true--that poor boy--no, no, he must not be taken now.”
”Too late, sir, to talk like that,” cried the sergeant. ”You stop there.”
”Yes,” said Pradelle, as the door closed on the sergeant's retiring figure; ”pleasant for you. I always hated you for a sneering old crab.
It's your time to feel now.”
”Silence, you scoundrel!” cried Uncle Luke, fiercely. ”She's coming to.”