Where the two men grappled, the parapet of the Embankment opens on a flight of river-stairs. Mr Markham had uttered no cry; nor did a sound escape either man as, locked in that wrestle, they swayed over the brink.
They were hauled up, unconscious, still locked in each other's arms.
'Queer business,' said one of the rescuers as he helped to loosen their clasp, and lift the bodies on board the Royal Humane Society's float. Looks like murderous assault. But which of 'em done it by the looks, now?'
Five minutes later Dick's eyelids fluttered. For a moment he stared up at the dingy lamp swinging overhead; then his lips parted in a cry, faint, yet sharp—
'Take care, sir! That stanchion—'
But Mr Markham's first words were, 'Plucky! devilish plucky!—owe you my life, my lad.'
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
In "My Christmas Burglary" I corrected the following apparent typographical errors:
"Europe and the Bull" to "Europa and the Bull".