Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 47

"Their lives must be wretched, so confined to the house."

"Aye, but they go out to sea."

"To sea?"

"Yes, in their sailing boat; the two boys are always out fis.h.i.+ng, sailing, and what not."

Hunston p.r.i.c.ked up his ears at these tidings.

"Yes, on the water they are allowed full liberty, for brigands and cats, according to Signor Harvey, are the two animals that fear the water most."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hunston, "very good indeed, but I never knew that brigands so feared the water."

"So Signor Harvey says," replied Marietta. "Indeed he says that a bar of soap and a bowl of water would frighten a brigand more than a whole armoury of firearms."

This was true.

Brigands may look picturesque when seen from a distance.

At close quarters they are, to put it mildly, objectionable.

If they do not hold soap and water in absolute fear, as d.i.c.k Harvey said, they at least look upon them as vanities and effeminacies unworthy of desperadoes.

"So, so," muttered Hunston, as he walked away, "I shall secure them yet. For through the boys I can get at the father and at Harvey. Hah!"

At this precise moment a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder.

There was a professional touch in it, which once felt could never be forgotten.

Hunston had felt such a clutch once in England, and the recollection was likely to last him as long as he lived.

He forgot where he was, every thing, and instinctively he faltered this inquiry--

"On what charge?"

"Murder!"

He knew the voice.

He had no need to look round; the voice was not one easily forgotten.

It was our old friend Pike, the English detective.

"Yes, Hunston," replied the officer coolly. "You have been giving me a lot of trouble, but it was only a question of time and patience, I knew. Come along; you are my prisoner."

CHAPTER XVI.

A GREAT DANGER--OFF AND AWAY!--POOR PIKE.

Hunston quailed. He was lost.

So suddenly--so unexpectedly had this come, that he was utterly powerless to help himself.

Had he been wearing the mechanical arm, he might have able to tackle the wiry officer Pike.

Bitterly did he curse his unlucky fate.

Recovering himself, however, in some slight degree, he endeavoured to shake off the detective's hold.

"Quiet, now, quiet, Master Hunston," said Pike, "or I shall have to try means for tranquilising you which you won't find agree with you."

"Show me your warrant for this outrage," said Hunston.

"Outrage! Hoity, toity! that's a good word."

"I shall call the police to my a.s.sistance if you attempt to molest me,"

said Hunston, putting on a lofty air.

This tickled Pike mightily.

"Call the police, will you?" he said. "Well, I shan't, for I flatter myself that I don't want much a.s.sistance to walk off with such a man as you--even if you were not lopsided."

Hunston turned savagely upon the detective at this allusion to his crippled state and made an attempt at using his one arm upon him.

But Pike was--to put it vulgarly--all there.

He dexterously dodged the blow, and whirling round secured a hold upon Hunston's collar--that peculiar grip which is the specialty of men who have been in the force.

Hunston struggled desperately to get free. In vain.

Do what he would, he found himself being trotted along to save himself from strangulation.

Not only was it physically painful.

Hunston had an overweening sense of his own importance and dignity, and this being run in just like some paltry pickpocket in a crowd, was galling to his vanity beyond all description.

What could he do?

He was powerless.

The wondering people stared at this singular exhibition, but they parted their ranks as Pike and his prisoner came along, and never offered to interfere.

Now, during this brief but painful business, Hunston's thoughts ran right ahead of the present dilemma.