I was now in a terrible quandary. Trial by court-martial and reduction to the ranks, together with a possible sentence of imprisonment, for allowing the man to escape, stared me in the face; while imprisonment for Williams was a certainty. My chances of advancement in the service would be absolutely ruined, I reflected, if I did not recapture the man, so I resolved, when I had so much at stake, to continue the search, although I looked for him all night. It was no use hunting for Scales in the principal streets of the town, as these were patrolled by military police, intent on apprehending soldiers who showed the slightest symptom of having had an extra allowance of liquor; besides being ruthlessly down on delinquents who had a tunic button undone, or the chin strap not adjusted in the regulation position.
While I was mentally shaping out a course of action, my companion stopped and excitedly exclaimed: ‘I have it now, sergeant! I’ll bet ten to one he’s gone to old Nathan’s!’
‘I’m not sure of that,’ I remarked dubiously; ‘but at all events we’ll go and see.’
Nathan was a rascally old Jew, who, though he was rigorously kept out of barracks, carried on with the soldiers a brisk business in the sale of coarse, rank, contraband tobacco. He had ‘agents’ in the different regiments to further this branch of commerce; and one of his accredited representatives in ours was private Scales. Besides, the old rascal, although it had never been brought home to him, was suspected of purchasing articles of ‘kit’ from ne’er-do-wells, and supplying ragged plain clothes to deserters in exchange for their uniforms. We lost no time in making our way to the squalid alley in the slums near the harbour where the business establishment of Mr Nathan was located; and when we reached the Jew’s dirty little huckster’s shop, we found him weighing out a small quantity of a condiment resembling toffee to a couple of grimy children. Pausing until the juvenile customers had left the shop, I asked Nathan whether that afternoon he had received a visit from Mr Scales.
‘No, sergeant; no soldier hash been here,’ replied the Jew, who then continued in an undertone: ‘Can I do bishness wit you in some goot tobacco?’
I paid no heed to the old Israelite’s statement, and decided to inspect the premises myself, without any scruples as to the legality of that course of action. Placing Williams at the door with instructions to allow no one to pass in or out, I proceeded, in spite of the expostulations of Nathan and his threats to call the police, to carefully search the little back-room behind the shop. No one was there; so I ascended a rickety staircase, and finding the door at the top locked, I kicked it open; but the foul-smelling apartment into which the door led was plunged in utter darkness. Returning to the shop, I helped myself sans cérémonie to one of a bunch of candles, and lighting it, returned to the upper room, which, on examination, proved to be a storehouse for the rags and bones in which the Jew dealt largely. I opened the shutters of the dirt-incrusted diamond-paned window, and probed with my gun-barrel every heap of rags; but, to my disappointment, the fugitive was not concealed in them. Suddenly, I perceived some glittering particles on the floor, which, on stooping to examine, I found to be bright iron filings! I was now filled with a feeling of exultation. Scales had apparently been to the Jew’s, and thus relieved of his handcuffs.
I once more examined the room. The window was apparently a fixture, and no one could make his exit without removing the sash. I next surveyed the roof, and perceived a trap-door giving access to the attics just large enough to allow a man to enter it. ‘My man is there right enough,’ I exclaimed to myself in great glee. I then shouted through the aperture: ‘I know you are there, Scales; it will be better for you if you come down at once.’ There was no response; so I decided to have the region explored. I called to Williams to keep a lookout for a policeman, and almost immediately my comrade shouted to me that he had secured the services of a constable. I thereupon summoned Williams to my assistance, leaving the Jew in charge of the policeman. Placing the rickety table under the trap, Williams speedily crawled through and gained the attic. Knowing the desperate character we had to deal with, I considered it expedient that my comrade should be prepared for an encounter; so I unfixed his bayonet, and handed it to him together with the lighted candle. Crawling over the creaking joists in the direction of the gable in which the window was fixed, Williams made a careful examination of the interior, while in the room below I waited with breathless excitement.
‘Anybody there?’ I cried.
‘One moment; I haven’t had time to see,’ Williams replied; and then began to search the opposite end. ‘Come out of that, you rascal!’ he at length indignantly shouted. ‘I’ve got him sergeant; he’s stowed in a corner!’
I then heard the fellow hiss out: ‘I’ve got a knife, and if you come near me, I’ll cut your throat, if I have to swing for it!’