19000 Pound Part 41

"Rats!"

He was not afraid of them. His limbs were free.

He had read accounts of those rodents attacking living men, but he had looked upon them as mere fiction. He was content to think that he could beat them off if his voice failed to frighten them.

The moon o'ertopped the trees, and he was thankful. The light was a great comfort.

It shone into the cellar, and he lay there on the beds as in a patch of lime-light, the shadow of the bars running as great dark lines across the floor.

He put his hands under his head, and lay quite still, looking up at the moon. Presently a shadow was cast--there was something at the window!

He did not move, and then he saw what it was--a cat--a common or garden cat!

A well cared for, plump, collared member of the feline race--he could see the silver part of the leather collar in the moon's beams.

The cat looked in between the bars and listened. Then she stealthily ran or dropped, after the manner of her kind, down the wall on to the floor.

It was evident from her manner that this was not her first visit. The squeaking and scuttling of the rats had ceased as by magic.

The fear they had not felt for the man, they instinctively felt for the cat--their natural enemy.

Quite idly, without moving, Gerald said:

"Puss, puss; poor p.u.s.s.ie."

The cat paused in her stealthy walk across the cellar floor. Gerald spoke again.

Perhaps she was rea.s.sured by his voice, for she did not run away when he stretched out his hand and scratched her neck and head; indeed, she came closer. Evidently Gerald had found her soft spot.

Another shadow! Another cat! Then another!

They followed the example of the first and dropped down--it was evidently a happy hunting ground for the neighboring cats.

Gerald was rather pleased than otherwise--they acted as a kind of police, so far as the rats were concerned.

The moon, as it climbed its way along the heavens, lighted up different parts of the cellar, and presently in looking round a ray of hope entered Gerald's heart--for there, on a nail in the wall, was a coil of wire!

There were possibilities in it.

He walked to the coil and took it down, and his heart sank again.

It was the thread-like wire used in bottling, and absolutely useless as a means of escape.

Then suddenly a thought occurred to him, which sent the blood rus.h.i.+ng to his head, and set his pulse and heart beating faster.

"My G.o.d!" he said, "there's a chance yet."

From his breast pocket he drew his note-book and tore three leaves out.

In the light of the moon with a pencil he wrote:

"For G.o.d's sake, whoever finds this, take it to the nearest police station. I am imprisoned without food or drink in the back cellar of The Elms, Maypole Road, Wimbledon, by a man who threatens to murder me. This is life or death. For G.o.d's sake, help."

"That ought to be strong enough," he muttered, as he reread it. "I don't know that I can add to it in any way."

Then he made two copies of the doc.u.ment, and folded all three into flat, long-shaped tapers.

He then broke off a couple of yards of the wire, and called a cat to him.

Scratching the cat, and fastening the note to the collar with the wire, was not altogether an easy task, but he accomplished it. Then he effected the same thing round the necks of the other two.

One had no collar at all, and Gerald had to make one with the wire. He succeeded, and then one by one he pitched the cats up to the window.

They looked round with ruffled fur at this indignity after such soothing treatment as they had been experiencing, and probably in their hearts thought that Gerald was no gentleman.

They evidenced this thought of him by walking away and leaving him.

He climbed up to the window bars, and watched them as well as he could.

They lingered, probably with a view to the formation of a choir; but Gerald said "Shoo!" and they fled. As they did so, he heard a clock striking.

Counting the strokes, he found it was ten o'clock. He had been in the cellar an hour only, and it seemed days.

He remembered the period of his residence in suburban lodgings. He remembered the care of the proprietors of cats then, how before going to bed they would patiently call "puss, puss, puss" at their back doors, in order to prevent their pets spending a night out.

He prayed earnestly that the owners of the feline trinity he had just let loose were affectionately disposed towards their cats. He hoped great things from those messages.

If not to-night, surely in the morning one of the three must bear fruit.

He prayed so with all his heart and soul.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A PISTOL AND AN OPEN GRAVE

Eleven o'clock struck. In that upper room at The Elms, where he had left a feather bed, Loide lay smoking and thinking.

He was disappointed at the ill success of his scheme.

His talk of starving out the detective had been all bluff--starvation was a process which would fill too much time.

It would be three days before the man with the warrant touched English sh.o.r.es. Before that time expired, Loide must be away.

But he wanted to flit with the money--the nineteen thousand pounds.

A hundred and one ideas floated through his mind.