He passed the end of his chain through an interval in the radiator, and clicked the bracelet over the man's other wrist, leaving the Admiral firmly chained to the place.
'What now?' he demanded. 'Guess you've made a haul here. The Admiral! Gosh! The most wanted of 'em all! This is a doing!'
'Get to the door and open it. First, though, pick up that shooter,' said David. 'Don't forget that we have those Russian fellows upstairs.'
'Russians! Who? Where?' demanded Hemming, his face expressing unbounded surprise.
'Spolikoff and Ovanovitch, two men of about thirty years of age, dark complexioned, wearing black moustaches,' answered David, staggering out of the lift. 'They've done nothing but fire down on me. The top of the lift is like a sieve.'
He tripped as he stepped, and went staggering up against one of the show cases, to which his fingers clung. Meanwhile Hemming stood back exclaiming.
'Spolikoff! Ovanovitch! Russians. Men of about thirty. Dark. Dark moustaches—Mister Harbor, you've hit up against a fine crowd. The wonder is that they haven't made mincemeat of you. Spolikoff and Ovanovitch! Notorious anarchists; burglars who have been cracking cribs up and down this country.'
He wiped his forehead with a brilliantly red handkerchief which he withdrew from the inside of his helmet, and puffed cheeks and lips out. It was a staggerer to Constable Hemming, this capture which he and David were making. Then he walked across to the door as if he were in a dream, and opened it just as three constables arrived on the scene.
'We heard the whistle and came along,' explained one. 'Crispen lay on the mat. He's hit in the head; a bad scalp wound I should say. We've applied a first dressing. He's sitting with his back against the wall, feeling chippy. What's all this?'
'What's all this!' Constable Hemming could hardly contain himself. 'What's all this!' he gasped again. 'Why, just a fine capture! You know there's been a young fellow watching. Bless me, he's cornered the Admiral. I've got the bracelets on that gentleman and have chained him fast to the radiator. There's one of the fellows down, while upstairs, barred in, are two Russians, the two Russians we have been after this many a day—Spolikoff and Ovanovitch.'