CHAPTER LVII.
MORE OF THE SAME SORT.
The securing of Jackson was so sudden and unexpected that no one in the room besides our party had noticed what was going on, and even the prisoner seemed not to realize for some moments that his tongue had revealed secrets which were likely to cost him imprisonment for life. He appeared to imagine that the handcuffing was an excellent joke, and a taint smile overspread his face; but after finding that no one returned it, a deadly paleness chased the color from his lips, and he trembled as though he was already arraigned before a tribunal for sentence.
"What is the meaning of this?" he stammered out, after moistening his mouth, which seemed parched, with his tongue.
"It means," whispered the inspector, "that you are my prisoner, and the first effort that you make to escape will result in your death. Remain quiet, and do as I wish you to, and you will fare well, but—"
He pressed the barrel of a revolver against his side, and the fellow trembled at its touch.
"Who are you?" Jackson demanded, almost in an inaudible voice.
"I am that d——d Brown whom you spoke of a few minutes since," replied the inspector, with a chuckle.
"And these two men?" he asked, pointing to Fred and myself.
"The Americans, whom you thought to get convicted of murder. You see that they have played you a Yankee trick, and have rather got the best of the bargain."