In the front of them were some constables—and, just behind them, the face of the Shady ’un. Philip had a dim idea that Madge had come out into the light, and was bending over the prostrate form of Ogledon. He knew, too, that handcuffs were on his wrists, and that he was strongly held by a couple of men. Some others had gone to Ogledon, and were raising him up. “Yes—take me,” he cried, recklessly; “I don’t mind now; my innocence is proved. Look to that man”—he pointed towards Ogledon—“he knows my story; he is my chief witness!” One of the men, who had been bending over Ogledon, got up and adjusted his chin-strap, and looked at Philip curiously. “I’m afraid your witness won’t do you much good,” he said, shortly. “The man is dead!” CHAPTER XXIV A RACE FOR A LIFE The Shady ’un, in the vindictiveness of his temper, had a word or two to say to the stricken man, before he was marched off. “You’re the bloke wot took ’old of me by the windpipe—ain’t yer?” he said, going close up to Philip, and thrusting his face forward at him. “Let this ’ere be a warnin’ to yer not ter tike ’old of other chap’s windpipes in futur’. You’ve done me rather a good turn—you ’ave, Mister Dandy Chater; there was a ’underd pound a ’angin’ to you—for sich infermation as would lead to you bein’ nabbed—an’ that ’underd pound is mine. I calls all these ’ere gents to witness,” he cried, raising his voice, and looking round about him—“as I brought yer all to this place, an’ nabbed ’im meself. An’ I’m a goin’ ter stick to these ’ere noble coppers, till I gits my ’underd pound!” Before Philip was marched away, he turned towards Madge—who stood with her face buried in her hands—and made one last appeal to her. “Dear girl,” he said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper—“there is but one way to save me now—but one hope left for me. Before God I am innocent. Find Dr. Cripps!” There was no time to say more; they took him off at once—meeting, at the very door of the place, the doctor who had been sent for to examine the dead man. Madge followed the little party out, and saw Philip placed in a cab, with three constables inside and another on the box—and driven off; the Shady ’un—still in pursuit of his “’underd pound”—running after the cab, as if his very life depended on keeping it in sight. In the stress of the moment Madge Barnshaw had lost all idea of time or place—indeed of everything. She quite forgot in what neighbourhood she stood or at what hour; and was only roused by hearing a voice address her. “I asks yer pardon, young lady—for a speakin’ of sich a trim built craft, without leave—but this ain’t no place for you to be a standin’ about alone in. If so be as you’ve lost yer way, put yer faith in a old mariner as knows the points of Life’s compass a bit, an’ let ’im tow yer into wotever ’arbour you may be bound for.”