“Why, it’s a razor,” he said, holding it up; “and what’s more it looks like your razor—the one you thought you’d lost.”
“That’s what it is,” said Keller, taking it from him. “I wonder how in thunder it got itself hid there? I’ll stick it in my pocket.”
“Better not,” advised Bronston. “If I’m not mistaken it is against the English law to carry a razor upon the person. A locked valise would be a better place for it, I should say.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Keller. “In a strange country it’s just as well to be careful.”
He turned and stooped down, fumbling with the hasps upon his small handbag. As he did, something supple and quick descended in a loop over his head and shoulders. In an instantaneous flash of alarm he sensed that it was the same broad strap which he had seen a moment before in the hands of the other man. As he straightened with an exclamation of [446] surprise, the strap was violently tightened from behind, the tough leather squeaking under the strain as the tongue of the buckle slipped through a handy hole; and there he was, trussed fast about the middle, with his arms bound down against his sides just at the elbows, so that his lower arms flapped in the futile fashion of a penguin’s wings. He cried out then, cursing and wriggling and straining. But a man who would have been his equal in bodily vigour even though his limbs were unhampered was upon him from the rear, pitching him forward on his bed, face downward, wrestling him over on his side, muffling his face in a twist of bed clothing, then forcing his wrists together and holding them so while there was a jingle of steel chain and a snapping together of steel jaws. Half suffocated under the weight of his antagonist, with his mouth full of blanket and his eyes blinded, overpowered, tricked, all but helpless, lashing out with his feet in a vain protest against this mishandling, Keller now was dimly aware of a wallet being hurriedly removed from his breast-pocket and of something else of equal bulk being substituted for it. Then he was yanked upon his feet, a cap was jammed upon his head, the leather noose about his body was cast off, and he stood unsteadily—a composite picture of dishevelment, dismay, chagrin and rage—wearing upon his two clamped hands the same gyves which his conqueror had worn when they boarded the ship.
[447]
“You’ll pay for this—I’ll make you pay for this!” he sputtered. “I’ll show you up! Damn you, take these things off of me!” and he tugged impotently at his bonds until his wrist-bones threatened to dislocate themselves. “You ain’t got a chance to get away with this—not a chance,” he cried. “I’ll raise this whole ship! I’ll——”
“Rest perfectly easy,” said Bronston calmly, soothingly almost, as he flung the strap aside and stepped back. “The ship has already been raised, or a part of it. If you weren’t so excited you would know that our friend Lawrence has been trying to get in the door for the last half minute or so. I think he must have heard you kicking. Let us admit him.”
He had the key in his hands—in the stress and fever of the encounter he had even remembered, this thoughtful man, to secure the key. And now, with his eyes turned toward the captive, who remained stupefied at this inexplicable manœuvre, he was stepping backward and unfastening the door, and swinging it open for the admission of the astounded servant.
“Lawrence,” snapped Bronston in the voice of authority and command, “I want you. My man here tried to give me the slip and I had to use a little violence to secure him. Bring these bags and come along with us to the deck. I shall possibly need your help in making the explanations which may be necessary. Understand, don’t you?”
[448]
Reaching backward, he slipped a shining gold coin into Lawrence’s palm; he slid into a grey ulster; he advanced a step and fastened a firm hand upon the crook of Keller’s fettered right arm. Involuntarily the captive sought to pull away.