CHAPTER XXIX.
IN DURANCE VILE.
This onslaught, so swift and unexpected, took Papa and Mamma completelyby surprise, and, for the moment, threw even Vernet off his guard.
"Scoundrel!" he exclaimed, while the menacing knife pressed against histhroat; "what does this mean?"
For answer, Franz shot a glance toward the two elder Francoises, andsaid in a hoarse, unnatural whisper:
"Deek the cove;[1] he's no dark lantern!"
[1] Look at him.
"Eh!" from Papa, in a frightened gasp.
"Done!" from Mamma, in an angry hiss.
And then, as the two started forward, Vernet, realizing that this shrewdruffian had somehow penetrated his disguise, gathered all his strengthand began a fierce struggle for liberty.
As they writhed together upon the floor, Franz shot out anothersentence, this time without turning his head.
"A dead act," he hissed; "we're copped to rights!"
Which, being rendered into English, meant: "Combine the attack; we arein danger of arrest."
And then the struggle became a question of three to one.
Vernet fought valiantly, but he lay at last captive under the combinedclutch of Papa and Franz, and menaced by the knife which Mamma, havingsnatched it from the hand of her hopeful son, held above his head.
Instinctively the two elder outlaws obeyed the few words of command thatfell from the lips of their returned Prodigal; and in spite of hissplendid resistance, Van Vernet was bound hand and foot, a prisoner inthe power of the Francoises.
His clothing was torn and disarranged; his wig was all awry; and largepatches of his sable complexion had transferred themselves from hiscountenance to the hands and garments of his captors.
"No dark lantern," indeed. The natural white shone in spots through itsebony coating, and three people less fiercely in earnest than theFrancoises would have gone wild with merriment, so ludicrous was theplight of the hapless detective.
"Now then," began Franz, in a low gutteral that caused Mamma to start,and Papa to favor him with a stare of surprise; "now then, no tricks, mycornered cop. You may talk, but--" and he glanced significantly from theknife in Mamma's hand to the pistol now in his own,--"be careful aboutraising yer voice; you've got pals in the street, maybe. You _may_ pipeto them, but,--" with a click of the pistol,--"_ye're_ a dead man beforethey can lift a hoof!"
Vernet's eyes blazed with wrath, but he maintained a scornful silence.
"In another moment, the two were upon the floor, FranzFrancoise uppermost!"--page 210.]
The three Francoises, without withdrawing their gaze from theirprisoner, consulted in harsh whispers. It was a brief consultation,but it was long enough for Van Vernet to decide upon his course ofaction.
"Now then, my bogus dark lantern," began Franz, who had evidently beenchosen spokesman for the trio, "what's yer business here?"
"Why don't you begin at the beginning?" retorted Vernet, scornfully."You have not asked who I am."
"Umph; we'll find out who ye air--when we want to. We know _what_ yeair, and that's enough for us just at present."
"Might I be allowed to ask what you take me for?"
"Yes; a cop," retorted Franz, decidedly. "Enough said on that score;now, what's yer lay?"
"I suppose," began Vernet, mockingly, "that you didn't hear the littleconversation between that nice old gent there and myself?"
"Look here," said Franz, with an angry gesture, "don't fool with _me_.Ef you've got any business with me, say so."
"Don't bully," retorted Vernet, contemptuously. "You were not asleepwhen I entered this room."
Franz seemed to hesitate and then said: "S'posin' I wasn't, wot's thatgot to do with it?"
"If you were awake, you know my errand."
"Look here, Mister Cop,--" Franz handled his pistol as if stronglytempted to use it,--"we'd better come to an understandin' pretty quick.I am kinder lookin' for visits from chaps of your cloth. I come in heretired, and a little muddled maybe, and flop down to get a snooze.Somethin' wakes me and I get up, to see--you. I'm on the lay for a'spot,' an' I've seen too many nigs to be fooled by yer git-up. So Ifloor ye, an'--here ye air. Now, what d'ye want with me?"
"My good fellow," said Vernet, with an inconsequent laugh, "since youhave defined your position, I may, perhaps, enable you to comprehendmine. Frankness for candor: First, then, I am not exactly a cop, as theword goes, but I am a--a sort of private enquirer."
"A _detective_!" hissed Mamma; while Papa turned livid at the thoughtthe word "detective" always suggested to his mind.
"A detective, if you like," responded Vernet, coolly. "A _private_detective, be it understood. My belligerent friend, you may be badlywanted for something, and I hope you'll be found by the right parties,but you're not in my line. Just now you would be an elephant on myhands. You might be an ornament to Sing Sing or Auburn, if I had time toproperly introduce you there, but I've no use for you. My business iswith Papa Francoise here."
Perhaps it was the address itself, or may be the incongruity of thehaughty tone and the grotesque face of the speaker, that caused FranzFrancoise to give rein to a sudden burst of merriment, the signs ofwhich he seemed unable to suppress although no audible laughter escapedhis lips. He turned, at last, toward Papa and gasped, as if fairlystrangled with his own mirth:
"This kind and accommodatin' gent, wot I've so misunderstood, has gotbusiness with ye, old top."
Papa came slowly forward, his face expressive of fear rather thancuriosity, followed by Mamma, fierce and watchful.
"You--you wanted _me_?" began Papa, hesitatingly.
"I have business with you, Papa Francoise. I want to talk with youprivately, for your interest and mine, ahem." He looked toward Franz,and seeing the stolidity of this individual, inquired: "Who is thatgentleman?"
His enunciation of the last word probably excited the wrath of Franz,for he came a step nearer, with an aggressive sneer.
"My name's Jimson, Mr. Cop, an' I'm a friend of the family. Anythingelse ye want ter know?"
With a shrug of the shoulder, Vernet turned toward Papa once more.
"I'd like to speak with you alone, Papa Francoise," he saidsignificantly.
The mood of mocking insolence seemed deserting Franz, and a wrathfulsurliness manifested itself in the tone with which he addressed Papa.
"He'd like ter see ye alone, old Beelzebub, d'ye hear?"
Papa glanced hesitatingly from one to the other. He seemed to fear boththe bound detective at his feet and the surly son who stood near him,with the menacing weapon in his hand, and growing rage and suspicion inhis countenance.
Mamma's quick eye noted the look of suspicion and she interposed.
"Ye can speak afore this gentleman, Mr. Cop; he's a _very_ intimatefriend."
A look of annoyance flashed in the eyes of Van Vernet. He hesitated amoment, and then said slowly:
"Does your intimate friend know anything about the affair that happenedat your late residence near Rag alley, Papa Francoise?"
It was probably owing to the fact that the fumes of his recent potationswere working still, with a secondary effect, and that from sleepyinertness he was passing to a state of unreasoning disputatiousness,that Franz, evidently by no means relieved at the transfer of Vernet'sattention from himself to Papa, seemed lashed into fury by the manner ofthe former.
"May be I know about that affair, and may be I don't," he retortedangrily. "Look here, coppy, you want to fly kind of light round me; Idon't like yer style."
"I didn't come here especially to fascinate you, so I am notinconsolable. I might mention, however, by way of continuing ourcharming frankness, that _your_ style has not commended itself to me."And Vernet emphasized his statement by a jerk of his fetters. "Nowlisten, my friends; I did not come here alone--half a dozen stoutfellows are near at hand. If I do not return to them in five minutesmore, you will see them here. If I call, you will see them sooner."
Franz raised the revolver to his eye a
nd squinted along the barrel.
"Why don't you call, then?" he inquired.
"I don't want to make a fuss. My errand is a peaceable one. Unbind me;give me ten minutes alone with Papa here, and I leave you,--you havenothing to fear from me."
Franz shifted his position and seemed to hesitate.
"You can't keep me, and you dare not kill me," continued Vernet, notingthe impression he had made. "All of you are in hiding from the police,and to kill an officer is conspicuous business--not like cracking theskull of a rag-picker, Papa Francoise. As for you, my lad, you've got asort of State's-prison air about you. I could almost fancy you a chap Isaw behind the bars not long ago, serving out a long sentence."
He paused to note the effect of his words, and was somewhat surprised tosee Franz rest the revolver upon his knee, while he continued to gaze athim curiously.
Vernet had made, or intended to make, a sharp home thrust. In searchingout the history of the Francoises, he had stumbled upon the fact thatthey had a son in prison; and the mutterings of Franz, while he layupon the pallet, coupled with the fact that Franz and Papa wore upontheir heads locks of the same fiery hue, had awakened in his mind astrong suspicion.
"Maybe ye might take a fancy ter think I'm that same feller," suggestedFranz, after a moment's silence. "What then?"
"Then," replied Vernet, "every moment that you detain me here increasesyour own danger."
"Humph!" grunted Franz, as he rose and crossing to Mamma's side, beganwith her a whispered conversation.
Vernet watched them curiously for a moment, and then turned his facetoward Papa.
"Look here, Francoise," he began, somewhat sternly, considering hisposition; "I've been looking for you ever since you left the old place,and I'm disposed to be friendly. Now, I may as well tell you that thereis a rumor afloat, to the effect that your son, who was 'sent up' yearsago, has lately broke jail, and that you harbor him. That does notconcern me, however. This insolent fellow, if he is or is not your son,may go, so far as I am concerned, and no harm shall come to him or youthrough me. What I want of you, is a bit of information."
From the moment of his capture, Vernet had believed himself equal to thesituation. Even now he scarcely felt that these people would dare to dohim bodily injury. As may readily be surmised, his talk of confederatesnear at hand was all fiction. He had sought out Papa Francoise hoping towin from him something that would criminate Alan Warburton, and to usehim as a tool. To arrest Papa might frustrate his own schemes, and, inthe double game he was playing, Van Vernet was too wise to call uponthe police for assistance or protection.
"You want--information?" queried Papa; "what about?"
Vernet hesitated, and then said slowly:
"I want to know all that you can tell me about the Sailor who killedJosef Siebel."
Papa gasped, stammered, and turned his face toward Franz, who now cameforward, saying fiercely:
"Look here, my fly cop, afore ye ask any more important questions, justanswer a few."
"Take care, jail bird!" cried Vernet, enraged at his persistentinterference, "or I may give the police a chance to ask you a questiontoo many!"
"Ye've got to git out of my clutches first," hissed Franz Francoise,"and yer chances fer that are slim!"
As the young ruffian bent close to him, Vernet, for the first time,fully realized his danger. But his cry for help was smothered by thehands of his captor, and in another moment he was gagged by theexpeditious fingers of the old woman, and his head and face closelymuffled in a dirty cloth from the nearest pallet.
"There," said Mamma, rising from her knees with a grin of triumph,"we've got him fast. Open the door, old man, he's going into the closetfor--"
"For a little while," put in Franz, significantly.
Into a rear room, across this, and into the dark hole, which Mamma haddignified by the name of closet, they carried their luckless prisoner,bound beyond hope of self-deliverance, gagged almost to suffocation, hiseyes blinded to any ray of light, his ears muffled to any sound thatmight penetrate his dungeon.