Presently the movement ceased.
“He is still enough now, Mr. Thorndyke. I should not be at all surprised if he has dropped off to sleep. He is hardened enough to sleep while the gibbet was waiting for him.”
It was four o'clock in the morning when they drove up at Bow Street. Two constables on duty came out to the cart.
“We have got a prisoner, Inspector,” Chester said. “He is the man we have been looking for so long. I fancy we have got all the swag that has been stolen for the last eighteen months—bags of jewels and watches, and sacks of silver. He is handcuffed, and his legs are tied, so we must carry him in.”
The officer fetched out a lantern. The other constable helped him to let down the backboard of the cart.
“Now, Bastow, wake up,” Chester said. “Here we are.”
But there was no movement!
“He is mighty sound asleep,” the constable said.
“Well, haul him out;” and, taking the man by the shoulders, they pulled him out from the cart.
“There is something rum about him,” the constable said; and as they lowered his feet to the pavement his head fell forward, and he would have sunk down if they had not supported him.