The mob had forgotten the machine-gun. Every man heard that firm cry, "Machine-gun, ready there!" and the answer, "Ready!" Now they remembered. Quick as lightning, a mental picture flashed through them ... a picture of the pass, blocked with their bodies, dominated by a devil of brass and steel.
And the rush—melted away. Melted away!
The Police were left with their prisoner. The crowd went sullenly pouring back to Prospect in defeat.
Gemmell drew a deep breath. The tense line relaxed.
It was hard to believe the mob had given way, not on account of the carbines but simply and solely on account of the mere threat of the Maxim.
For the Maxim had been frozen up for the past twenty minutes.
"Bluffed 'em, by the Lord Harry!" said Gemmell.
IV
Greasy Jones and Mr. Steven Molyneux, M.P., sat opposite each other in the little room wherein they had held their first conversation, months before.
On the stairs outside, Greasy Jones' spy, whom Northcote knew as Charlie, kept watch. Charlie had fulfilled his duty faithfully. Greasy was well aware that Welland had not 'squealed.'