The five women drew together at one side of the room. They entered into agitated discussion, conducted, however, in whispers, so as to be inaudible to the anxious lady close at hand. The consultation could not have been carried far before the room door was again thrown open, and the woman, Ricketts, who had been primarily the cause of all the mischief, came rushing in.

"Quick!--the coppers! they're at the door!--the other way."

The woman was a picture of excitement and alarm. As soon as she had spoken she turned and fled as rapidly as she had come. Her words fell like a bombsh.e.l.l amidst the little group of women. Without an attempt at comment they rushed after her, bustling each other in their panic flight. Almost before she learned what had happened, and certainly before she could guess what was about to happen, Mrs Bankes found herself alone. Suddenly there was the sound of violent knocking at the street door; a loud crash; heavy footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. Three or four men came into the room. One of them, advancing, laid his hand upon her shoulder. He turned to a man behind him.

"They've had the office and done a bolt. I daresay they are trying the roof; go up and see. Take somebody with you." The man addressed walked quickly from the room, two others going with him.

"You are my prisoner."

CHAPTER V.--INTO THE FIRE

Mrs Bankes looked up at the speaker with ashen cheeks.

"Your prisoner? What do you mean? Who are you?"

"You know very well who I am, though, since you ask, I don't mind telling you that I'm a detective officer of police, named Macarthy, which, no doubt, is all quite news to you. How comes it that you weren't so nimble on your pins as those friends of yours?"

"Friends of mine?"

"They are friends of yours, I take it. You're a regular happy family, aren't you? And a nice little lot you seem to be. You, at anyrate, will be separated from them for a time. Hold out your hands."

He did not wait for her to hold out her hands, he held them out for her. In an instant handcuffs were girdling her dainty wrists. This did seem to be the most terrible catastrophe of all, that she, Edith Bankes, should be arrested at Christmas-time, as a common thief, and handcuffed!

"You are making a horrible mistake, I am not the person you take me for."

"I don't see how you can make that out, since I haven't said who I do take you for as yet. Of course you can cheek it out if you like, but don't you think it would seem too thin? Do you expect us to believe that only ladies of first-cla.s.s character are to be found in a house like this--the foulest den in London?"

"I a.s.sure you, officer, that it is only owing to the most extraordinary misapprehension."

"Of course--not a doubt of it; it always is like that. Take my advice and keep a still tongue--anything you say 'll be used against you.

Sorry to have to use the bracelets, we don't generally, with a lady, but, in a place like this, we take no chances. Jones, take her off, and let Wright go with you. I'm going over this place, and then I'll come straight on."

"But I implore you to listen to me. I am Mrs Bankes--"

"Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Bankes; hope to see you again a little later on. Now off you go; don't be silly. You don't want us to carry you, I suppose--it might spoil your pretty clothes!"

He gave her what was meant as a good-natured push; but to her, unaccustomed to come into physical contact with policemen, it was as if the heavens were falling. A younger man took her by the arm.

"Now then. Downstairs!"

She went downstairs, the officer gripping her firmly. The house seemed full of men. In the street were half a dozen more. Her companion called one of them to her. Presently she found herself walking between two constables, each having hold of an arm, handcuffed, to the station house. And even then she was unable to adequately realise the situation. It did seem incredible that she, a woman of position, the wife of a man of reputation, could be hauled off to jail without even knowing with what crime she was charged. She made still another effort to induce her captors to hear reason.

"I do a.s.sure you that you are making a dreadful mistake. I am Mrs Bankes--"

Sergeant Jones interrupted her.

"All right, you've said that before. We've been ordered to take you to the station, and if you're a d.u.c.h.ess it makes no difference to us, we're going to take you. You can explain all about it when you're there."

What was the use of attempting to argue with such impossible creatures? Fate was hard on her. Her heart was sinking down into her shoes. Was she actually to spend a night in a police cell, after undergoing goodness only knew what indignities? What an inauguration of the Christmas season? What would be her husband's feelings? What would her relations think? What would her acquaintances say? What a tale to be told against her throughout the whole remainder of her life! The horror of it all!

As they pa.s.sed out of the narrow street in which stood that house of ill omen, just as they had turned the corner, six or seven figures appeared out of the darkness, and without uttering a sound, or word of warning, precipitated themselves upon the advancing trio. Before Mrs Bankes had an inkling of their purpose she found herself being torn from the clutches of her captors, each of whom, with what seemed to be a cloth thrown over his head, was being dragged backward on to the ground. In what appeared little more than an instant she was freed at the expense of her arms being torn nearly out of their sockets, and was being hurried along the pavement under the guidance of a tall individual in a long dark overcoat, who continually urged her, by word and action, to use her utmost speed.

"Who are you? Where are you taking me?" she managed to articulate. Her conductor's reply was not entirely satisfactory.

"Move yourself. It's all right, coast's clear, only don't stop talking. I've got a cab round the corner, this way."

He whirled her round into an alley which she would hardly have noticed if it had not been for him. In the dim light a hansom stood waiting.

He lifted her in without a with-your-leave or by-your-leave, sprang in after her, and in a moment the horse, urged by its driver, tore off at the top of its speed. So soon as they had started the man at her side broke into a peal of laughter, which, despite its heartiness, had about it a peculiar quality of silence, beginning at the same time to talk with surprising volubility.

"Neat, wasn't it? Did you ever see anything neater? I fancy I scored off those infernal coppers that time, what do you think? I heard you were going to be raided, in fact I saw them starting, so I whipped up a few trusty pals, boys who wouldn't stick at a trifle, and I've got you away from them at any rate; it'll be your own fault, my dear, if, after this, you're buckled again. I should like to see Macarthy's face when he hears what's happened to those chaps of his. Aren't you very much obliged to me?"

Edith was not by any means certain. She ventured on an inquiry.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Captain Jim."

"Captain Jim?"

"Yes, you must be a raw hand if you've never heard of Captain Jim.

Why, it's only a week or two since I came out from doing my last five years, and I've made things move since I've been out, I tell you. A word to the wise--I've got the biggest thing in my eye ever you heard of. Some of that lot in your gang have got grit, that I do know, and if you're the sort of girl I take you for, you're just the one I want--we'll bring it off between us, just me and you together. What do you say to that?"

"Thank you, but I--I'm afraid you've made a mistake--"

"Oh, blow your mistakes, I don't believe it! You wouldn't have been where you were if you hadn't got the right stuff in you. Let me take those darbies off, they can't feel comfortable on those nice little wrists of yours; darn their eyes for putting them on you."

The handcuffs did gall her. She offered no objection to his removing them with the aid of a key which he took from his pocket. When they were off he tossed them up into the air, catching them as they came down.

"You beauties! you've buckled many a good man; wouldn't I like to buckle a copper with you for a change? I'd make him look funny!"

The cab had been dashing along without any diminution of speed. It turned round still another corner. Captain Jim looked out. "Keep your eyes skinned. My place is along here. Bill--that's the cabman, he's a pal of mine--don't want to stop any longer than he can help, for fear of being spotted,--you never know who's looking; so when I give the word jump out like lightning."

"But I want to explain to you--"

"Stow your explanations till we get inside. Then you and me'll have a good old palaver. Now then."

The cab drew up. Somehow, she herself scarcely knew how, Edith found herself standing on the pavement with Captain Jim. Almost before she felt the ground beneath her feet the cab was off.

"Pretty smart that. Bill can move when he wants to, trust him to get the right sort of cattle. Now then, here we are at home." He turned towards the house behind them. She made a further attempt at expostulation--but she was too far gone to do so with effect.

"It's all a mistake, I want to tell you it's all a mistake."

"Tell me all about it when we get inside. You're not up to the mark, I can see. A pick-me-up will put you to rights."

He had been opening the door with a latchkey while he had been speaking. He hustled her through it, in spite of her feeble effort at resistance, leading the way into an apartment which appeared to be used as a sitting-room. The man looked round with an air of pride.

"Not a bad kind of crib, is it? And I have got a bedroom what is better than this,--you trust me to get the proper sort of place.