Three more days went by in dreary inaction. Tommy felt the strain telling
on his nerves. He saw no one but Conrad and Annette, and the girl had become
dumb. She spoke only in monosyllables. A kind of dark suspicion smouldered in
her eyes. Tommy felt that if this solitary confinement went on much longer he
would go mad. He gathered from Conrad that they were waiting for orders from
“Mr. Brown.” Perhaps, thought Tommy, he was abroad or away, and they were
obliged to wait for his return.
But the evening of the third day brought a rude awakening.
It was barely seven o’clock when he heard the tramp of footsteps outside in
the passage. In another minute the door was flung open. Conrad entered. With
him was the evil-looking Number 14. Tommy’s heart sank at the sight of them.
“Evenin’, gov’nor,” said the man with a leer. “Got those ropes, mate?”
The silent Conrad produced a length of fine cord. The next minute Number
14’s hands, horribly dexterous, were winding the cord round his limbs, while
Conrad held him down.
“What the devil—-?” began Tommy.
But the slow, speechless grin of the silent Conrad froze the words on his
lips.
Number 14 proceeded deftly with his task. In another minute Tommy was a
mere helpless bundle. Then at last Conrad spoke:
“Thought you’d bluffed us, did you? With what you knew, and what you
didn’t know. Bargained with us! And all the time it was bluff! Bluff! You
know less than a kitten. But your number’s up now all right, you b—-swine.”
Tommy lay silent. There was nothing to say. He had failed. Somehow or
other the omnipotent Mr. Brown had seen through his pretensions. Suddenly a
thought occurred to him.
“A very good speech, Conrad,” he said approvingly. “But wherefore the bonds
and fetters? Why not let this kind gentleman here cut my throat without delay?”
“Garn,” said Number 14 unexpectedly. “Think we’re as green as to do you in
here, and have the police nosing round? Not ‘alf! We’ve ordered the carriage
for your lordship to-morrow mornin’, but in the meantime we’re not taking any
chances, see!”
“Nothing,” said Tommy, “could be plainer than your words–unless it was
your face.”
“Stow it,” said Number 14.
“With pleasure,” replied Tommy. “You’re making a sad mistake–but yours
will be the loss.”
“You don’t kid us that way again,” said Number 14. “Talking as though you
were still at the blooming Ritz, aren’t you?”
Tommy made no reply. He was engaged in wondering how Mr. Brown had
discovered his identity. He decided that Tuppence, in the throes of anxiety,
had gone to the police, and that his disappearance having been made public the
gang had not been slow to put two and two together.
The two men departed and the door slammed. Tommy was left to his
meditations. They were not pleasant ones. Already his limbs felt cramped and
stiff. He was utterly helpless, and he could see no hope anywhere.
About an hour had passed when he heard the key softly turned, and the door
opened. It was Annette. Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. He had forgotten
the girl. Was it possible that she had come to his help?
Suddenly he heard Conrad’s voice:
“Come out of it, Annette. He doesn’t want any supper to-night.”
“Oui, oui, je sais bien. But I must take the other tray. We need the
things on it.”
“Well, hurry up,” growled Conrad.
Without looking at Tommy the girl went over to the table, and picked up the
tray. She raised a hand and turned out the light.
“Curse you”–Conrad had come to the door–“why did you do that?”
“I always turn it out. You should have told me. Shall I relight it,
Monsieur Conrad?”
“No, come on out of it.”
“Le beau petit monsieur,” cried Annette, pausing by the bed in the
darkness. “You have tied him up well, hein? He is like a trussed chicken!” The
frank amusement in her tone jarred on the boy; but at that moment, to his
amazement, he felt her hand running lightly over his bonds, and something small
and cold was pressed into the palm of his hand.