We entered the bustling coffee-room, where, at the detective’s suggestion, I ordered refreshment, and he placed us at a table behind two pillars. Heysham ate and chatted in high spirits; but, though hungry enough, I could scarcely eat at all, and sat still in irresolute impatience for what seemed an interminable time. I could not get Minnie’s worn face out of my memory; and, though her husband’s incarceration would probably be a boon to her, I knew she would not think so. Besides, this deliberate trapping of a man I had met on terms of friendship, even after what had happened, was repugnant; and the cattle were safe. There was, however, nothing to do but wait; for, alert and watchful, the representative of the law—who, nevertheless, made an excellent breakfast—kept his eyes fixed on the door, until I would have risen, but that he restrained me, as, followed by several others, Fletcher and a little dark man, besides the one who had cajoled the stock from me, came in.
“Stock-buyers!” whispered the detective, thrusting me further back. “Go slow. In the interests of justice, I want to see just what they’re going to do.”
The newcomers seated themselves not far from the other 251 side of the pillar, and I waited feverishly, catching snatches of somewhat vivid general chatter, until one of the party said more loudly: “Now let us come down to business. I’ve seen the beasts—had to crawl over the cars to do it—and they’re mostly trash, though there are some that would suit me, marked hoop L. & J. Say, come down two dollars a head all around, and I’ll give you a demand draft on the bank below for the lot.”
What followed I did not hear, but by-and-by a voice broke through the confused murmuring: “It’s a deal!” An individual scribbling in his pocket-book moved toward a writing table. Then the detective stepped forward, beckoning to me.
“Sorry to spoil trade, but I’ve saved your check, gentlemen,” he said. “That stock’s stolen. Thomas Gorst and other names, Will Stephens, and Thomas Fletcher, would you like to glance at this warrant? No! well, it’s no use looking ugly, there are men at either door waiting for you. This is a new trick, Stephens, and you haven’t played it neatly.”
“Euchred!” gasped the little man, while the other scowled at me.
“Confusion to you! In another hour I’d have been rustling for the Great Republic. Still, I guess the game’s up. Don’t be a mule, Fletcher; I’m going quietly.”
He held out his hands with a resigned air, but when, amid exclamations of wonder, another officer appeared mysteriously from somewhere to slip on the handcuffs, Fletcher hurled a decanter into his face and sprang wildly for the door. He passed within a yard of where I stood. I could have stopped him readily with an outstretched foot or hand, but I did neither, and there was an uproar as he plunged down the stairway with an officer close behind him. The detective saw his other prisoners handcuffed before he followed, 252 and though he said nothing he gazed at me reproachfully. When we stood at the head of the stairs he chuckled as he pointed below.
“Your friend hasn’t got very far,” he said dryly.
It was true enough, for in the hall a stalwart constable sat on the chest of a fallen man who apparently strove to bite him, and I saw that the latter was Thomas Fletcher. I had clearly been guilty of a dereliction of the honest citizen’s duty, but for all that I did not like the manner in which he said, “Your friend.”