“Yes, yes, in everything. Everything,” he replied eagerly.
Then Burski, who was as cool and collected as his chief was agitated, made a move the purpose of which I was to see later. He whispered to his companions, and Bremenhof hurried back up the staircase and the other man ran away to the back of the house.
“Now, Mr. Anstruther, we must face this out together. What are you going to do?”
Those outside were battering at the door with a violence that threatened to break it down every moment. A heavy stone was hurled through the small glass light above it, and a loud cheer greeted the smash.
I turned and threw the door open and then his object was made plain.
As I opened it, he sent up a great shout.
“Help! help!” he called, in ringing stentorian tones. “Thank God you have come, friends. The rest of the cursed police have bolted, but I’ve kept this one from escaping. My fellow prisoners are upstairs.”
It was a clever ruse; and in an instant a dozen hands shot out eagerly to grab me. I sprang back and Burski tried to block my retreat; but I thrust him away and reached the stairs.
“Stop. This is a trick,” I shouted. “That is the police agent. I am an Englishman. It was I who fired the shots just now and called for help.”
A babel of oaths and confused cries greeted this; and the men in front halted a moment in hesitation.