"They--won"t--find--what--I--want," he said slowly, dropping out the words one by one. The secretary now felt certain that here was a genuine case of mental derangement. With such he had no desire to be troubled; and so, the footman bringing word that nothing had been stolen, he dismissed d.i.c.k to the street.
CHAPTER VI.
The brandy steadying him, d.i.c.k went down the steps with a fairly firm tread. But he went down into a world that for him was all darkness-- darkness of chaos--carrying an ent.i.ty that was not his, but belonged Heaven knew to whom.
The streets, the traffic, meant nothing to him. Their roar was within his head; and on his ears, nostrils, chest, lay a pressure as of mighty waters. Rapidly as he walked, he felt himself all the while to be lying fathoms deep in those waters, face downwards, with drooped head, held motionless there while something within him struggled impotently to rise to the surface. The weight that held him down, almost to bursting, was as the weight of tons.
The houses, the shop-fronts, the street-lamps, the throng of dark figures, pa.s.sed him in unmeaning procession. Yet all the time his feet, by some instinct, were leading him towards the water; and by-and-by he found himself staring--still face downwards--into a black inverted heaven wherein the lights had become stars and swayed only a little.
He had, in fact, halted, and was leaning over the parapet of the Embankment, a few yards from Cleopatra"s Needle; and as he pa.s.sed the plinth some impression of it must have bitten itself on the retina; for coiled among the stars lay two motionless sphinxes green-eyed, with sheathed claws, watching lazily while the pressure bore him down to them, and down--and still down. . . .
Upon this dome of night there broke the echo of a footfall.
A thousand footsteps had pa.s.sed him, and he had heard none of them.
But this one, springing out of nowhere, sang and repeated itself and re-echoed across the dome, and from edge to edge. d.i.c.k"s fingers drew themselves up like the claws of the sphinx. The footsteps drew nearer while he crouched: they were close to him. d.i.c.k leapt at them, with murder in his spring.
Where the two men grappled, the parapet of the Embankment opens on a flight of river-stairs. Mr Markham had uttered no cry; nor did a sound escape either man as, locked in that wrestle, they swayed over the brink.
They were hauled up, unconscious, still locked in each other"s arms.
"Queer business," said one of the rescuers as he helped to loosen their clasp, and lift the bodies on board the Royal Humane Society"s float. Looks like murderous a.s.sault. But which of "em done it by the looks, now?"
Five minutes later d.i.c.k"s eyelids fluttered. For a moment he stared up at the dingy lamp swinging overhead; then his lips parted in a cry, faint, yet sharp--
"Take care, sir! That stanchion--"
But Mr Markham"s first words were, "Plucky! devilish plucky!--owe you my life, my lad."