The Strand Magazine, Vol. 07, Issue 41, May, 1894: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 07, Issue 41, May, 1894: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
"We do not leave here," I said, "without the watch and chain and the
money. My mind is quite made up. When I go, this gentleman goes, and we
neither of us go without his property."
These words of mine were almost drowned by the heavy noise of an
approaching dray. It lumbered past the window. As it did so, I stepped
on to the balcony to acquaint the cabman with the fact that the three
minutes were up.
I looked down into the street, and could not help starting--the cab had
vanished.
I turned round quickly.
The big man had also stepped upon the balcony--he gave me an evil
glance. Suddenly seizing me by the collar, he dragged me back into the
room.
"You ere a humbug, you ere," he said, "wid yer bloomin' cabs--there
ain't no cab there--no, nor never wor. Ef you don't go in one way you
go in another. It ain't our fault ef things ain't quite agreeable. Come
along, Sam, lend a 'and."
The next moment the ruffian had laid me flat on my back on the floor,
and was kneeling on my chest.
Tollemache tottered from the sofa, and made a vain struggle to get the
brute away.
"You get out of this," the fellow thundered at him. "I'll make an end
of you, too, ef you don't look out."
He fumbled in his pocket and took out a huge clasp-knife.
I closed my eyes, feeling sure that my last hour had come. At this
moment, however, the rapidly approaching sound of cab wheels was
distinctly audible. A cab drove frantically up and stopped at the door.
The four ruffians who were clustered round me all heard it, and the big
man took his knee off my chest.
Quick as thought I found my feet again, and before anyone could prevent
me, leaped out on to the balcony. Two policemen were standing on the
steps of the house--one of them had the bell-pull in his hand and was
just about to sound a thundering peal.
"Stop," I shouted to him; "don't ring for a moment--stay where you
are." Then I turned and faced the group in the room.
[Illustration: "I FELT SURE THAT MY LAST HOUR HAD COME."]
"It is not too late," I said; "I give you one minute's grace. Return
this gentleman's watch and chain and the three hundred pounds you have
stolen from him, and I say nothing to the two policemen who are now
waiting on the steps. If I have not the money back within a minute, the
police enter your house--now you can choose."
I saw by the expression on the face of the bully who had knocked me
down that he was only too eager to accede to my request.
"Come on, Bill," he said to one of his pals, "I suppose there ain't
nothing for it but to do what the gen'leman says. Yes, yes, you be
quiet, sir, and you'll have all the swag--lor', we only pulled you down
by way of a joke, and as to the money and the other waluables, we was
_keeping_ 'em for the gent. Who'd want to rob a poor innercent like
that? You promise not to peach on us, sir?"
"Be quick," I shouted. "I give you a minute, no more--give me the money
and the watch and chain. You had better hurry up."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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