Chapter XXVI The Vultures
For a moment the Hooligan stood motionless, as if surprised by the ease with which he had accomplished his revenge. For a moment only, however. Approaching the prostrate form of the young doctor, he gave Jim a savage kick in the side. Jim did not move or speak.
“We’ve got ’im this time, boys,” exclaimed the rough. “He’s done.”
But here there was an unlooked-for interruption. The woman whose voice had lured Jim to his destruction ran forward and confronted the leader of the gang.
She was a flower-seller, and had the healthy complexion common to her open-air calling. A thick mane of black hair hung over her eyes, and she was ill-kempt and shabby, but she was not wholly without grace of form or feature.
“You said it was an old gent coming up for rent. You lied. It’s the tall doctor.”
The Hooligan glared at her.
“Well,—wot then?”
“If I’d known it was ’im, I’d ’ave warned ’im, that’s wot! ’E saved my baby’s life. You shan’t touch ’im again.”
The Hooligan waved her off without ceremony.
“Shut your silly mouth, will you! It’s done now. Get back over there, or I’ll treat you as I’ve treated ’im.”
Appalled by his tone, the woman shrank back to the gloomy corner whence she had emerged.
The others laughed coarsely. The room was dimly illumined by the light that came from the lamp-post in the court without, but this was sufficient to show them that their victim was unconscious, if not dead.
“See wot’s on him,” said one, a hunchback.
They crowded round the still figure, and commenced a quick search of Jim’s pockets. The bandaged man—not without some wrangling—was allowed to retain Mortimer’s watch and chain; the hunchback greedily possessed himself of the coins he extracted from Jim’s pockets—two half-sovereigns, some silver, and a few coppers; another of the gang annexed Jim’s cuff-links and studs.
The other four savagely demanded that the money, at least, should be divided up amongst them, and were assured that they would get their share. They received this promise with remarks that indicated that there was little honour among these thieves, and it looked as if a struggle for the booty were about to ensue, when the hunchback made a discovery which rendered the other finds insignificant in comparison.
“’Ere’s a cheque.”
So saying, he struck a match with feverish haste.
“‘Undred pounds! My Sam! This is a bit o’ luck. ’E didn’t get this out o’ Mount Street, I’ll wager.”
“Let’s ’ave a squint at it,” said the bandaged man. “Ay,” he continued, after examining the pink and white slip, “this is a bit of orl right. ’Undred quid! That’ll be nearly fifteen quid apiece.”
“A bit o’ paper like that ain’t no good to us,” growled one of the gang; “’ow can we change it? ‘Ooever tries to will be nabbed.”
The hunchback interposed. “Don’t you make no mistake, Jerry. We can change it. Gentleman ’Arry ’ll do it. ’E can get up just like a toff—he wasn’t a valit six years for nuthink. It ain’t crossed, and so ’e can get cash over the counter. ’E’s told me that when ’e was in service ’e often changed cheques for the nobs wot employed ’im.”
Thereupon the bandaged man arranged with the hunchback that “Gentleman ’Arry” was to be approached on the subject that night, and promised five pounds if he changed the cheque first thing in the morning.
“There ain’t nuthink else on ’im, is there?” inquired the bandaged man, when this matter had been settled.
The hunchback went all through Jim’s pockets again, but his search only yielded some keys, a pocket-handkerchief, and a few letters.
“No, nuthink else, mates.”
“Then we’ll clear.”
As they all rose to their feet, the flower-seller again confronted the leader.
“’Ow about me?” she demanded. “Didn’t I get ’im in ’ere? ’E’d ’ave cottoned something was wrong if ’e ’adn’t been answered by a woman.”
The Hooligans grinned at each other. The bandaged man had arranged this matter with the girl; it was no business of the others.
“Oh, you shall ’ave a new ’at, Sally,” the bandaged man assured her, with a leer.
“Wot else?”
“Anyfink yer like, Sally. But I thought you did it out o’ friendship for me, because I was so kind to your ’usband before they nabbed ’im,” added the Hooligan, with an unpleasant grimace.
“I’ll see I get my share,” said the girl, showing her white teeth.
“Wot! Would you take the kind doctor’s ’ard-earned welf? ’Im wot was so good to yore byby! For shame, Sally!”
‘“E’s done for now, and it doesn’t matter to ’im. I’ll ’ave my share, or know the reason why.”
“You’ll split on us?”
“Yes, on the ’ole lot of yer! I don’t join in a dirty job like this for love. I’ve a baby to keep at ’ome, and I want money, so you watch it!”
The bandaged man winked at his fellows. “That’ll be orl right,” he said. “It’s on’y ’er wye. Well, let’s get out o’ this, boys.”
As the others moved towards the door the bandaged man and the girl stayed by Jim’s side. As the former gazed upon the prostrate and silent figure, an evil smile distorted his countenance. “We’re quits now,” he muttered, shaking his fist at the white face, “you an’ me. You ’urt me, and now I’ve ’urt you.”
A twinge in the wound which he had come by through Jim’s agency made him wince. He uttered an appalling oath.
“No, we ain’t quite quits! I’ll spoil your beauty for you, to end with, my pretty doctor.”
He raised his iron-shod heel above Jim’s face, but ere the foot could descend the flower-girl pushed the Hooligan aside with such force that he reeled against the wall.
“Leave ’im alone—ain’t you satisfied?” she exclaimed sharply.
The man recovered himself with another oath, and smacked the girl across the face with his open hand.
“That’s for you, you interferin’ cat!”
With a snarl worthy of the creature she had been likened to, the girl hurled herself at her aggressor, and clawed his face with venomous finger-nails. In the struggle the Hooligan’s bandage came off, revealing an unhealed wound. Crying out with pain, the rough threw the girl off with all his might, and, turning quickly, was hacking at Jim’s head and body, when the girl, regaining her balance, flung herself across the motionless figure on the floor, and there remained while the Hooligan kicked and struck both at herself and Jim with ungovernable fury. Time and again he tried to drag her away, but she held staunch to her post in spite of his blows and execrations.
By this time the Hooligan had worked himself into a state of frenzy. Seeing that he could not get the girl away, he drew a knife from his belt, but, even as he poised it to strike, the door was kicked open and a man appeared.
Then a voice rang out commandingly; George Somers—for Koko it was—had never spoken so in his life before.
“Drop that knife or I fire.”
With the howl of a maddened animal the Hooligan sprang to his feet and bounded forward. The blade flashed ominously in the lamplight. As it swept downwards towards Koko’s heart, there was a sharp report, followed by a shriek from the Hooligan, who swayed, clutching at the air, and then toppled forward in a heap, shot through the brain.
Simultaneously came sounds of heavy footsteps on the stairs. The other members of the gang made a dash for the doorway, but as they reached it several stalwart forms barred their exit. The Hooligans, realising their position, fought like tigers to escape, but the police, having been forewarned of trouble by old Harris, had their truncheons ready, and used them without stint. Two of the Hooligans dropped to the floor; another, a big fellow, closed with one of the constables, and they went swinging and stumbling into the passage without. Taking his opportunity, the hunchback crept out on to the dark staircase, and was softly descending when suddenly two bony hands seized him by the neck, and next moment he and old Harris were rolling over and over down the rotten stairs, the Jew dealer hanging on to the half-strangled dwarf with a nervous grip which the other could not overcome, beat and tear as he would. Halfway down the stairs the writhing pair were met by another couple of policemen, by whom the hunchback was quickly secured and handcuffed.
The reinforcing police speedily settled the matter, and all the Hooligans were soon in custody.
When at length the police were able to draw breath more easily and look around, they found Somers kneeling by his friend. By Jim’s side lay the insensible form of the flower-seller who had befriended him with such strange suddenness.
“Jim, old chap! Jim!” cried Koko. “Jim, speak to me.”
No sound came from Jim’s lips. He lay as he had fallen, with his white face upturned to the ceiling. But that face was without a mark, so well shielded had it been by the woman.
“Here, sir, try this,” said one of the police, holding out a pocket-flask.
Quickly Koko unscrewed the top and forced the mouth of the flask between his friend’s lips. The raw spirit trickled down Jim’s throat, and, to Koko’s unspeakable relief, Mortimer opened his eyes.
“Is that—you—old man?”
“Yes, Jim! Here, swallow some more. Oh, Jim,” he added, in a trembling voice, “I’m so glad! I thought—you were dead!”
Jim gave a little sigh. “I think they’ve done for me. I can’t move—they’ve hurt my back....”
Koko shivered, for he knew what Jim meant.
“We’ll take you to the hospital, old man,” he said, “and you’ll soon be all right.”
Jim’s lips moved in reply, and Koko put down his ear.
“Take me home,” said Jim—and fainted away.