Just then he remembered that to-morrow was Fred Simpson's birthday. Simpson was the Leader of the "Wolves," and a jolly good sort, and Atherton resolved to spend the remainder of his weekly allowance in some small present for his chum. Stamp-collecting was one of Simpson's hobbies, and Atherton knew that it was his ambition to get a set of Servian "Death Masks."
"I saw a set in a shop in the Strand only last week," thought Atherton. "I'll take a short cut across Hungerford Bridge, buy the stamps if they are still to be had, and pick up the Tube at Charing Cross. There will be ample time if I make haste."
The approach to the bridge consists of a fairly steep wooden gangway with an abrupt turning at its upper end. The worn planks were slippery with mud, while, being close to the river, the mist seemed denser than ever. From the bridge it was just possible to see the outlines of the adjoining brewery and the tiers of heavy barges lying on the reeking mud, for the tide had almost ceased to ebb.
Less than half-way across the bridge Atherton saw the figures of two men. One was leaning over the low parapet, the other, hands in pockets and his hat stuck on the back of his head, was looking fixedly along the narrow footway. Suddenly the latter poked his companion in the ribs and pointed at the oncoming Scout; then both men turned and leant over the parapet as if interested in the swirl of yellow water twenty or thirty feet beneath them.
"What can their interest be in me, I wonder?" thought Atherton. "No use showing the white feather. I'll walk straight past them—but I'll 'Be prepared.'"
Somewhat to his surprise the two men took particular care to keep their faces averted. But swiftly as he walked by the Scout did not forget the value of unobtrusive observation.
"No. 1.—Height about five feet five, broad shouldered, short legs; back of neck dirty yellow, hair black and long, showing a tendency to curl. Clothes: a billy-cock hat, soiled stand-up collar, with a frayed yellow-and-black necktie showing above the back collar-stud, coat rusty black, circular patch of deep black material on left elbow; trousers grey, frayed at bottoms; boots pale yellow, badly in need of a clean, and much worn on the outside of each heel.
"No. 2.—Height five feet ten, back of neck red, iron-grey hair closely cut, shoulders bent, legs long, feet planted well apart. Cloth cap; blue woollen scarf, blue serge coat and trousers, black boots that had apparently been treated with dubbin. Should take him to be a seafaring man; more than likely a bargeman. I feel pretty certain that I could pick out these men in a crowd of——"
A stifled shout for aid was faintly borne to the Scout's ears. He stopped, turned, then without hesitation ran as hard as he could in the direction from which he had come. The mist hid the two men from his sight, while at the same time a light engine running slowly over the adjacent bridge threw out a dense cloud of steam that, beaten down by the moist atmosphere, made it impossible for Atherton to see more than a yard ahead.
Once more came the cry, this time nearer, but gurgling, as if the victim's mouth was being held by one of his assailants. Imitating a man's voice, the Scout shouted. Just then the cloud of steam was wafted away, and Atherton was able to see what was taking place.