CHAPTER XXXI.THE DOOMED.
Frank sat up. To do so caused him a mighty effort, and he groaned with pain, while his head became giddy, and he feared that he would faint.
“You’ve got to brace up, old man,” he hoarsely muttered. “This is for your very life. You may be able to escape.”
He touched his throat, and cried out with pain. His breath seemed to whistle in his windpipe, while his heart fluttered and stopped, and acted in a most unnatural manner.
“I am badly broken up,” he thought. “Never felt just like this before. Can’t seem to get into shape.”
He sought the wall, found it, placed his back against it, and there he sat in the darkness, limp as a rag, weak as a kitten, wondering if his strength would ever return.
It was well that his enemies did not reappear just then. He might have struggled to his feet and fought in a feeble manner, but he would have been easily overpowered.
Frank had a mighty will. He resolved to recover his strength, knowing how much he needed it just then, and slowly, little by little, it came back to him.
They had said that Luptus would return and dispose of him. Who was Luptus? Was he the fearful being with the death-cold hands? If so, Frank feared him more than all of the other three.
There was something mysterious and terrible about the possessor of those hands. That he should possess such marvelous strength and such icy hands seemed inexplicable.
Frank was not naturally revengeful, but he felt that he owed it to society, as well as to himself, to live and bring to punishment Emile Durant and his companions in crime.
After a time he got upon his feet and found the door, which he tried to open.
It was indeed locked.
With his hand against the wall, he felt his way around the room.
He came to a curtain, which he quickly stripped aside, and beyond the curtain was a window.
A low exclamation of satisfaction came from his lips.
“If this window is not barred—if this is not a veritable prison——”
He felt for the bars, and found none. The window was shakey, and he did not have much trouble in opening it.
Looking out, he found a wall before him and within reach of his arm. Looking downward, he saw that he was at least four stories from the ground.
“Can’t jump down there,” he immediately decided.
What could he do?
The air which came up from below told of garbage and foul things, but it was not close and stuffy out there, and he seemed to gain fresh strength.
He crept out through the window, and began to feel around with a hand and a foot, clinging to the sill.
At first he touched nothing, and it was so dark in there that he could not see very well.
After some moments, his foot found a projecting brick on the opposite wall. With the aid of this, he balanced himself between the two walls, continuing his inspection.
Leaning forward, he found he was able to reach another window, which he believed opened into the room in which he had first found himself on recovering consciousness.
“If I can get in there, it is possible I may find no locked doors between myself and liberty,” he thought.
Then he sought to brace himself and obtain a foothold between the two walls, where he could reach the window.
In the course of a few minutes he succeeded.
He was outside the window, and he tried to open it.
In this he failed, and it became evident that the window was fastened on the inside.
“Only one thing is left for me to do,” he thought, “and that is to smash the glass. It will make more or less noise, but it must be done.”
Bracing himself so there was little chance of slipping and falling, he carefully took off his coat, which he wrapped about his right hand, with which he intended to break in the window.
He lifted his hand to carry out the project.
Then he paused and listened, hearing the sound of voices and heavy footsteps.
To his dismay, he heard the footsteps entering the room before him.
“It is my enemies!” he huskily whispered. “They are returning to carry me out and sink me in the river!”
Now he felt that he was in frightful peril. As soon as they entered that little closed room they would see that he had escaped by the window.
He had escaped from the room, but he was still within two yards of that window, and it would be a simple thing to recapture him.
What could he do?
A ray of light shone out through a hole in the curtain.
He found the hole, and peered into the room.
What he saw brought a gasp of astonishment from his lips, and he very nearly lost his hold and fell.
There were five men in that room. Three of them had glittering revolvers in their hands, with which they menaced another, whose hands were bound behind his back.
Another man, standing near and looking on, was a tall, round-shouldered, shabbily dressed person. His neck was craned forward, his head was round as a bullet, and small, while his eyes shone with a fierce and murderous light.
Then Frank saw his hands. They were large and muscular, and unnaturally white, save where they were soiled by dirt.
The boy knew he was looking at the icy hands which he had twice felt.
Those fingers were working, as if their owner longed to fasten them on the neck of the bound and helpless captive.
And that captive was ’Arry ’Awkins, the man from Deptford!
“A-r-r-r-r!” snarled Durant, shaking his revolver under ’Arry’s nose. “We have caught you zis time!”
“I’ll ’ave to hadmit as ’ow you has, gents,” was the cool reply; “but I’d like to hask why you ’ave caught me?”
“You know very well,” said Linton, also menacing ’Awkins with a revolver. “There is no reason why you should ask us.”
“Gents, not wishin’ to be himpolite, I will confess as ’ow it’s likely I hought to know, but I am sorry to hadmit that I do not.”
“Bah!” cried Durant. “Zat ees one lie!”
“I am not hable to prove that you hare mistaken, but if you will untie my ’ands, I will make a strong hargument,” said ’Arry.
“Cæsar!” thought the boy outside the window, in admiration. “That fellow has nerve! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”
“Why are we wasting time?” asked Glanworth, nervously. “I do not relish this kind of work, and——”
“You will have to take your share in it,” declared Linton; “for you are as much in danger by this man as any of the rest of us.”
“We all be in ze great dangare,” said Durant. “We be in dangare so long as zis dev-val live.”
“Hanybody would think as ’ow I were a cannibal, and you were in danger of being heaten hup,” came from the captive.
“You are worse than a cannibal so far as we are concerned,” said Linton. “You would not only destroy us, but you would destroy many others who are working for the good cause.”
“That’s werry strange,” muttered ’Awkins, shaking his head in a puzzled manner. “I never knew I were so hextremely dangerous.”
“Zat nevare fool us,” declared Durant. “You do ze treek well, but we know you are Orson Irons, ze great detective of Scotland Yard.”
Frank started so that he came near slipping and falling.
“Is it possible!” he panted. “And I thought him a rascal all along! I see through it all. He has been watching me. By Jove! he is a consummate actor, and he has nerve!”
’Awkins laughed.
“Supposing as ’ow I were what you say, gents, what would you do habout it?” he asked.
“Keel you!” snarled the Frenchman. “Keel you dead!”
“And do you fancy you would be able to escape the officers who know I came to this quarter to-night?” demanded the captive, now speaking without the least accent save that which is most natural and perfect in using the English language.
“They will never know what became of you,” declared Linton. “You will disappear from the face of the earth, and your fate will remain a mystery.”
“Ziz ees wasting time!” cried Durant. “Feenish him!”
It seemed that he was on the point of shooting the helpless man through the head, but Glanworth caught his hand and thrust the muzzle of the revolver aside.
“No blood!” came hoarsely from the young man’s lips. “Blood leaves stains, and stains are dangerous.”
“Who ees ’fraid!” snarled the little Frenchman.
“Easy!” came sharply from Linton. “Do not lose your head, Durant. Why should we do the job when we have one here who will attend to that? Leave him with Luptus.”
“That’s right,” came quickly from Glanworth. “I do not want to see it. Leave him with Luptus. His hands will finish the job.”
“Go, get out!” snarled the fiery little anarchist. “Your blood ees made of water! I want to stay and see ze man die!”
“Well, I do not care about that,” came huskily from Linton, whose face was pale. “This business is somewhat out of my line, but I believe the job must be done for the welfare of the cause.”
“You go!” grated Durant. “Both leave me! I will see zat Luptus do ze job. Go now!”
He almost drove them from the room, closing and fastening the door. Then he turned and made a signal to the creature with the terrible hands.
With a horrid, inarticulate sound, the creature sprang on the captive and fastened those deadly fingers on his throat!