Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1906-03-03

ter we were in the sBayswater road
not up for once. n
Presto, presto" my pale guide MUIR
INJURED. "Affretatevi-avanti!
"Ten bob if you do it," l cried
through the trap. without the slightest
notion of what we were to do. But 1T
was luna quistione di VITA" and ''yos-
tro AMIGO must and could only be my
miserable Raffies.
What a very godsend is the perfect
hanson to the man or woman In
hurry! 1t had been our great good
+ fortune to jump into perfect hanson.
There was no choice; we had to take
the first upon the rank, but 1t must
have. deserved fits place with the rest
nowhere New tires, superb springs,
horse in n thousand and driver up to
every triSk of his trade. In and out
we went like fast halfback at the
Rugby game, yet where the traffic was
thinnest there were we. And how he
knew. his way! At the Marble arch he
slipped out of the main stream, and SO
into Wigmore street, then up and in
and out and on until saw the gold tips
of the museum palisade cleaning be-
tween the horses ears in the sun.
Plop, plop. plop-ting. ling. ling-bell
and horseshoes, horseshoes and bell,
until the colossal figure of C. J. Fox in a
grimy toga spelled Bloomsbury square,
with my watch still wanting three min
utes to the hour.
what NUMBER" cried the good fel-
low overhead.
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS., said my guide,
but he was looking to the right. and /
bundled him out to show the house on
foot. l had not half sovereign after
all. but flung our dear driver a whole
one instead and only wish that it had
been n hundred.
Already the italian had his latchkey
In the door of 80, and in another mo-
ment we were rushing up the narrow
stairs of as dingy a London house as
prejudiced eountryman can conceive.
1t was panelled, but it was dark and
evil smelling. and how. we should have
found our way even to the. stairs but
for an unwholesome jet of yellow. gas
In the hall I cannot myself imagine.
However, up we went pell NELL to the
right about on the half landing, and so
like q whirlwind into the drawing room
a few steps higher. There the gas was
also burning behind closed shutters,
and the scene is photographed upon my
brain, though 1 cannot have looked
upon it for q whole instant as sprang
in at my leaders heels.
This room also was panelled, and in
the middle of the wall on our left, his
hands dashed TO ringbolt high above
his head, his toes barely touching the
floor, his neck pinioned by a strap pass
ing through smaller ringbolts under
either ear and every inch of him Sc
cured on the same principle, stood, or,
rather, hung, all that was left of Raf-
fes, for at the first glance / believed
him dead. A black ruler gagged him,
the ends dashed behind his neck, the
blood upon it caked to bronze, in the
gaslight And in front of him, ticking
like sledge hammer, its only hand
upon the stroke of II, stood simple,
old fashioned grandfather's clock-but
not for half an instant longer, only I'M
til my guide could hurl himself upon it
and send the whole thing crashing into
the corner. An ear splitting report ac-
companied the crash, white cloud lift
ed from the fallen clock, and l saw
revolver smoking in wise screwed be-
low the dial, an arrangement of wires
sprouting from the dial itself, and the
single hand at once at it's zenith and in
contact with these.
Tumble to it, Bunny"
He was alive. These were his words.
The Italian had the blood caked ruler
in his hand, and with his knife was
reaching up to cut the thongs that lash
ed the hands. He was not tall enough.