"There's a woman in the game to-night, a woman who has been brought down here by some of your lot, and who is down there now, either drugged or half conscious. They are trying to get her on the Dutchman's steamer." "How do you know it's a woman?" was the brief demand. "I tell you we both heard her groan," the poet insisted. Jacob Potts rose to his feet. "Boys," he said, addressing the belligerents, "and gents, there will be a ten minutes' interval. Sorry, but it's business. Joe will serve the drinks, which for this occasion only will be free." The ten minutes' interval, softened by the promise of free drinks, displeased no one. Jacob Potts, still in his shirt-sleeves, strode out of the place, through the front room of the public-house and out into the street, where a queer, unnatural silence Seemed to reign. "There ain't no woman about 'ere!" he exclaimed. Aaron Rodd suddenly flashed his torch. The iron gate was closed. There was no one before it. They could hear the sound of men's footsteps a few yards away on the old wooden wharf. "They've just gone through," Aaron whispered fiercely. "Come on!" Jacob Potts produced a key from his pocket and swung the gate open. "If you fellows have made a fool of me," he muttered, "there'll be trouble, but if my boys have let me in, there'll be hell!" Just as he finished speaking they once more heard the faint, smothered cry from in front, followed by a man's oath. They saw the flashing of a light and heard the fall of a rope from the wharf into the river. Jacob Potts quickened his pace. "Turn on that glim o' yours, guv'nor," he growled, "and mind where you're going. 'Ullo there?" There was a confusion of answering voices. "It's the guv'nor!" they heard some one say. Then the light of Aaron Rodd's torch flashed upon the short, wooden dock, and upon the half-dozen men grouped at the top of the crazy steps at its furthest extremity. One of them came back. It was the man who had warned the poet and Aaron. "Guv'nor," he said earnestly, "this ain't your show. You leave us alone and get back to the fight." "That be damned!" Jacob Potts replied firmly. "It's no job of yourn to tell me wot to do. You know very well there's just one thing I stick at, and I asks you a plain question, Sid, and a plain answer expected. Is that bundle you're carrying a woman, or ain't it?" "It's a woman," the man proclaimed doggedly, "and it's going on board the 'Amsterdam.'" The answer of Jacob Potts was bellicose and unprintable. He strode along the little wharf, followed by Aaron Rodd and Cresswell. Behind came the man called Sid, his face darker and more evil than ever, his breath coming short with anger. "Boys," Jacob Potts exclaimed, "drop that! You hear me? Women ain't in the game. You've all been told that." There was a moment's hesitation. Then they heard the voice of their leader, hoarse and vicious.