What could he do?
A ray of light shone out through a hole in the curtain.
He found the hole, and peered into the room.
What he saw brought a gasp of astonishment from his lips, and he very nearly lost his hold and fell.
There were five men in that room. Three of them had glittering revolvers in their hands, with which they menaced another, whose hands were bound behind his back.
Another man, standing near and looking on, was a tall, round-shouldered, shabbily dressed person. His neck was craned forward, his head was round as a bullet, and small, while his eyes shone with a fierce and murderous light.
Then Frank saw his hands. They were large and muscular, and unnaturally white, save where they were soiled by dirt.
The boy knew he was looking at the icy hands which he had twice felt.
Those fingers were working, as if their owner longed to fasten them on the neck of the bound and helpless captive.
And that captive was ’Arry ’Awkins, the man from Deptford!