The door closed behind them and two of the masked men; there was the sound as of a boot being used with skill and strength, and cries of pain; then the door reopened and the masked men returned.
“They are gone,” announced one of them. “We helped them on their way.”
“Good,” said the leader. “Let us continue the inspection. What are these two Hebrews?”
A man from behind stepped forward and examined them slowly; then he came up to the leader and whispered in his ear.
“Is that so?” A new and terrible note had crept into the deep voice. “My friends and I do not like your trade, you swine. It is well that we have come provided with the necessary implement for such a case. Fetch the cat.”
In silence one of the men left the room, and as his full meaning came home to the two Jews they flung themselves grovelling on the floor, screaming for mercy.
“Gag them.”
The order came out sharp and clear, and in an instant the two writhing men were seized and gagged. Only their rolling eyes and trembling hands showed the terror they felt as they dragged themselves on their knees towards the impassive leader.
“The cat for cases of this sort is used legally,” he remarked. “We merely anticipate the law.”
With a fresh outburst of moans the two Jews watched the door open and the inexorable black figure come in, holding in his hand a short stick from which nine lashes hung down.
“Heavens!” gasped Waldock, starting forward. “What are you going to do?”
“Flog them to within an inch of their lives,” said the deep voice. “It is the punishment for their method of livelihood. Five and six—take charge. After you have finished remove them in Number 3 car, and drop them in London.”
Struggling impotently, the Jews were led away, and the leader passed on to the remaining two men.
“So, Zaboleff, you came after all. Unwise, surely, in view of the police?”
“Who are you?” muttered Zaboleff, his lips trembling.
“A specimen hunter,” said the other suavely. “I am making a collection of people like you. The police of our country are unduly kind to your breed, although they would not have been kind to you tonight, Zaboleff, unless I had intervened. But I couldn’t let them have you; you’re such a very choice specimen. I don’t think somehow that you’ve worked this little flying visit of yours very well. Of course I knew about it, but I must confess I was surprised when I found that the police did too.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the other hoarsely.
“I mean that when we arrived here we found to our surprise that the police had forestalled us. Popular house, this, tonight.”
“The police!” muttered Waldock dazedly.
“Even so—led by no less a personage than Inspector McIver. They had completely surrounded the house, and necessitated a slight change in my plans.”
“Where are they now?” cried Waldock.
“Ah! Where indeed? Let us trust at any rate in comfort.”
“By heaven!” said Zaboleff, taking a step forward. “As I asked you before—who are you?”
“And as I told you before, Zaboleff, a collector of specimens. Some I keep; some I let go—as you have already seen.”
“And what are you going to do with me?”
“Keep you. Up to date you are the cream of my collection.”
“Are you working with the police?” said the other dazedly.
“Until tonight we have not clashed. Even tonight, well, I think we are working towards the same end. And do you know what that end is, Zaboleff?” The deep voice grew a little sterner. “It is the utter, final overthrow of you and all that you stand for. To achieve that object we shall show no mercy. Even as you are working in the dark—so are we. Already you are frightened; already we have proved that you fear the unknown more than you fear the police; already the first few tricks are ours. But you still hold the ace, Zaboleff—or shall we say the King of Trumps? And when we catch him you will cease to be the cream of my collection. This leader of yours—it was what Petrovitch told him, I suppose, that made him send you over.”
“I refuse to say,” said the other.
“You needn’t; it is obvious. And now that you are caught—he will come himself. Perhaps not at once—but he will come. And then … But we waste time. The money, Zaboleff.”
“I have no money,” he snarled.
“You lie, Zaboleff. You lie clumsily. You have quite a lot of money brought over for Waldock so that he might carry on the good work after you had sailed tomorrow. Quick, please; time passes.”
With a curse Zaboleff produced a small canvas bag and held it out. The other took it and glanced inside.
“I see,” he said gravely. “Pearls and precious stones. Belonging once, I suppose, to a murdered gentlewoman whose only crime was that she, through no action of her own, was born in a different sphere to you. And, you reptile”—his voice rose a little—“you would do that here.”
Zaboleff shrank back, and the other laughed contemptuously.
“Search him—and Waldock too.”
Two men stepped forward quickly.
“Nothing more,” they said after a while. “Except this piece of paper.”
There was a sudden movement on Zaboleff’s part—instantly suppressed, but not quite soon enough.
“Injudicious,” said the leader quietly. “Memory is better. An address, I see—No. 5, Green Street, Hoxton. A salubrious neighbourhood, with which I am but indifferently acquainted. Ah! I see my violent friend has recovered.” He glanced at Flash Jim, who was sitting up dazedly, rubbing the back of his head. “Number 4, the usual.”
There was a slight struggle, and Flash Jim lay back peacefully unconscious, while a faint smell of chloroform filled the room.
“And now I think we will go. A most successful evening.”
“What are you going to do with me, you
