They did hurry up with a vengeance. The big man was as great a coward as he was a ruffian. As he thrust his hands deep into his trousers pockets, I saw that he was absolutely shaking with fright. Tollemache's magnificent watch and chain were laid on the table, and all four men turned their pockets out and deposited gold and notes by the side of the other property. I stepped up to the table and reckoned the money. Two hundred and eighty pounds and the watch and chain were returned to me. The remaining twenty pounds were, I plainly saw, hopelessly gone. It was not worth fighting for them. I put the gold and notes and the watch and chain into my pocket, and going up to Tollemache took his arm. "Come," I said, "we can go now." The terror which must have seized him when he saw me struggling on the floor had partly sobered him, but now he had returned to the most imbecile stage of his horrible vice. He struggled to his feet and clutched hold of me. "Want my pipe," he muttered. "I say, old boy, won't go without my pipe." I had hard work to keep my patience. He was a big man, and I could not control him against his will. We were by no means yet out of the wood. The four ruffians were eyeing us as if they would only too gladly kill us both by slow torture. Never before had I encountered eight such diabolical eyes as those which they fixed upon me. And there stood Tollemache, with an idiotic smile on his face, and imagining that he was doing a wonderful and clever thing when he refused to stir without his pipe. "Don't be a fool," I said, sternly, to him. "Come, now, I'll get you your pipe to-morrow." To my relief he seemed satisfied with this assurance, and suffered me to drag him across the room. When we reached the door the big ruffian came up and intercepted us. "We have your word not to peach?" he said. "Yes," I replied--"let me pass." He did so, and I helped Tollemache as best I could downstairs. The four men watched our descent over the banisters. As soon as I had got my patient out on the steps, one of the policemen came up to me. "What's the trouble, sir?" he demanded. "Can we help you?" "This gentleman is hopelessly drunk," I replied--"I thought it possible I might need your assistance in getting him from the house. You will oblige me much by helping me now to put him in the cab." "No other trouble in there, sir?" asked the man, meaningly. "None," I answered. "Will you kindly take the gentleman's other arm?" The policeman did so--his eyes were full of significance. He guessed, of course, that I was hiding something, but it was not for him to make any further remarks. I took Tollemache straight back to my own house, and for the next week I had once again to lend him what aid I could in fighting the terrible demons who attack the victims of delirium tremens. I engaged two skilful men to nurse him, and, between us, we managed to drag the poor fellow away from the shores of death.