Jacob's Ladder Part 21

"Excellently thought out," Jacob confessed.

"Say, let's cut out this chin music," Hartwell interposed. "Just what are you going to do about it?"

"I am going to sign the cheque," was the unhesitating reply.

They cut the bonds which secured his right hand. Jacob wrote the cheque according to their directions, signed it carefully and handed it over. They pa.s.sed it to Sybil.

"In as small notes as you can get," Mason enjoined. "Come straight back here."

She nodded and left the room, with an insolent little glance at Jacob.

The latter leaned back in his chair.

"You see, I am quite amenable," he said. "And now, don't you think that as I am a very small man, and feeling exceedingly unwell from the stuff on the handkerchief which that n.i.g.g.e.r of yours thrust down my throat, and there are two of you, both big fellows, you could loosen my cords for me? This is d.a.m.ned uncomfortable, and I hate the melodramatic appearance of it."

"Will you promise, upon your honour, to make no effort whatever to get away before Miss Bultiwell's return?" Mason demanded.

"I give you my word that I will do nothing of the sort."

They cut his cords. Jacob staggered to his feet and stretched himself.

A bottle and gla.s.ses upon a table at the farther end of the room attracted his attention.

"Is that whisky?" he asked, in an interested manner.

"Guess we'll find you a Scotch and soda," Hartwell declared. "Don't you feel too badly about this, Pratt," he went on, as he handed him the tumbler. "We'd have gone for a much bigger thing with you, but for Miss Bultiwell. She wouldn't have you bled for more, and she wouldn't have us take you where I wanted to, down Limehouse way, where we could have kept you snugly for a week, if necessary."

"Extraordinarily considerate of her," Jacob observed drily, as he drained the contents of the tumbler.

"I can tell you, sir," Hartwell went on, as he handed over his cigarette case, "out in the State where I come from, we should think nothing of a hold-up like this. Why, you haven't a scratch, and you could afford to put that five thou in the plate at church and not notice it. Have one more small one for luck."

"I don't mind if I do," Jacob acquiesced.... "You fellows must see some life."

"Not on this side," Hartwell replied despondently. "We're too near the edge of your little island all the time, for a job of this sort.

I'm in a bit of trouble over in the States, or I shouldn't be wasting my time here."

Jacob stretched himself expansively in the easy-chair. He thrust his hands into his pockets and sighed.

"Just about reached the bank, hasn't she?"

"They're counting out the flimsies right now," Hartwell exulted.

Jacob nodded.

"You fellows have brought this off all right," he reflected. "I suppose you knew I shouldn't give any trouble."

"We kind of reckoned you'd be sensible," Hartwell admitted.

"Supposing I'd dodged that drug and shown fight?" Jacob went on. "Were you armed, you fellows?"

Hartwell smiled contemptuously.

"Not for a little job like this," he replied. "When I use shooting-irons, things happen. Do you get me, Pratt?"

Jacob nodded.

"You seem to have held me very lightly," he grumbled. "I expect Mason has an automatic in his hip pocket."

"I have never carried firearms in my life," Mason declared, with a shiver. "I prefer finesse."

Then Jacob began to laugh. He rose from his chair and walked up and down the room with his hands in his trousers pockets, shaking with mirth. The two men watched him at first in surprise, afterwards with growing uneasiness.

"What the h.e.l.l's got you?" Mason demanded.

"Can't you let us into the joke?" Hartwell suggested.

"I really think I must," Jacob replied, coming to a standstill near the door. "You know, it may seem strange to you, but honestly I am not quite chicken food. I knew a bit about you two, and I should never have come near this dancing cla.s.s but that I wanted to keep an eye on Miss Bultiwell. Seemed to me yesterday that things were coming pretty well to a crisis. I was the only genuine pupil here--empty house, disappointed adventurers, and all the rest of it. So this morning I looked in at my bank and told them exactly what to do if any open cheque were presented with two little dots underneath my signature.

You noticed them, didn't you, Mason? I should think," he concluded, glancing at his watch, "that in a matter of five minutes we ought to have some interesting visitors here."

"The little hound's done us!" Mason shouted. "Come on, Hartwell.

Taxi's outside. We shall just have time."

But they faced a transformed and most unexpected Jacob Pratt.

Hartwell, rushing for the door, was adroitly tripped up and fell heavily. Mason, after a moment's whirlwind sparring, found himself on his back, seeing a thousand stars. Jacob took up his position in front of the door.

"Gentlemen," he announced, "I promised not to attempt to escape and I shall keep my word. But as regards giving you a little lesson, that's another matter. I might mention that I was knocked out in the semi-finals for the amateur lightweights by a chance blow. You can come along together, if you like, or separately."

"Rush the little devil!" Hartwell shouted, rising.

They rushed--one another. To their amazed senses, Jacob seemed transformed into some extraordinary creation of india rubber, and the events of the next few minutes lived in their memories only as a hideous and painful nightmare.... In a matter of five minutes, Jacob opened the hall door to Sybil. She stared at him in bewilderment. His hand closed upon her wrist. He held her gently, but there was a feeling of iron underneath the velvet, and a new sternness in his tone.

"The notes are in your handbag, I see. Thank you!"

He thrust the roll into his pocketbook and handed her back the empty bag before she had recovered the power of speech.

"Where are they all?" she gasped. "How on earth did you get here?"

"I brought off a small bluff," Jacob explained gravely. "Your two friends believed a little legend of mine about the signing of my cheque and expected a visit from some Scotland Yard officers. They tried to escape. You'll find them downstairs. I am afraid Mason may have to go to the hospital, but Hartwell should be all right in a day or two, if he lies in a dark room."

For the moment she was cowed. She looked at him almost fearfully.

Hartwell and Mason were strong men. Escape seemed to her a miracle.

With her wrist still in his steel-like grasp, she suffered him to lead her out on to the pavement.

"Your a.s.sociation with this ridiculous escapade," he continued, "has decided me to regard it as a practical joke,--on one condition: which is that you step into my car there, allow my man to drive you to your rooms, or wherever you are staying, and promise me to have nothing whatever more to do with this gang of adventurers."

"You are not going to give information to the police about them?" she asked breathlessly.

"I cannot without involving you," was the cool reply. "You were the decoy. You can insure their safety."

She shivered.