y that
prearranged signal, that they were wanted--and wanted at once.

Instantly the night became hideous with shouting voices and running
steps. The door-keeper hurried out of his cottage with lantern lit, and
made his way toward them; constables appeared from every corner of the
grounds; meanwhile, Cleek, with the crackling paperish thing that had
muffled the bell in his hand, and the other lending what support to
Dollops he could give in holding the man down, called out their
requirements in the sharp staccato of excitement.

"A net, boys--quick! or a great-coat--anything! Only spit out your
torches and hold it firm-stretched, and we're going to throw something
down to you which will want a lot of holding, for it's as slippery as an
eel," he gave out sharply. "Now, then--are you ready? Mr. Narkom, see
that the lights are strong enough; I don't want him 'missing fire' and
landing with a broken neck until we've done with him. Ready, Dollops?
One--two--three----"

Came a scratching and a fighting and a furious sound of rending material
as the man wriggled to be free of those three detaining hands that held
him. Then of a sudden a startled gasp, a muttered oath, and--a flying
black shape came hurtling down in the darkness to that little circle of
light where the upturned, expectant faces of the constables showed in
Rembrandt-like light and shadow, and--the shape landed in the folds of
the outstretched great-coat with a _thwack_, and was muffled up in it in
a moment, kicking and clawing and scratching furiously as the thick
folds went over his head.

Ten men removed him from it eventually and set him upon his feet, just
as Dollops, slithering and sliding down from the dangerous height, with
his heart in his mouth for his master's safety with that injured hand of
his, landed with a _plomp_ upon the soft ground, and gave Cleek the hand
that had helped him all the way down that perilous journey, until he,
too, was in safety at last.

"Gawd's troof, Guv'nor!" he ejaculated, as he whipped out his
handkerchief and bound it tightly and professionally over the finger and
down on to the strained wrist. "You're 'urt proper, ain't you? That was
a narrer squeak, I don't fink!... That's better, ain't it? I weren't
a-goin' ter let yer git orf without that bit of bandages to 'elp the
pain, not if we loses the blinkin' murderer 'isself! Let's 'ave a look
at the chap, sir."

Cleek's good hand swung up across the boy's shoulder.