"It must be important, then," Barnett said.
Moriarty nodded. "Assuming our conclusions are correct," he added, "and this doesn't turn out to be a gathering of the Lithuanian branch of the Young Men's Christian Association." He pulled his pince-nez glasses from one pocket and a cloth from another and began assiduously polishing the lenses. "I'd give quite a lot to listen in on that conversation," he added.
"I could sneak upstairs," Barnett offered. "Perhaps I could overhear something."
Moriarty shook his head. "The chances of your being apprehended," he said, "are much larger than the chances of their speaking English."
"I hadn't thought of that," Barnett admitted.
Moriarty put his pince-nez back into his pocket. "We could get reinforcements," he said, "but that would take longer than we can afford. They may decide to transfer Tolliver to a safer place, since this house is undoubtedly going to be abandoned after this meeting. Indeed, Tolliver may already have been taken away."
"Then what do we do?" Barnett asked.
"We rush them, as Mr. Maws has suggested," Moriarty said. "But in such a fashion as to create an air of moral, if not numerical, superiority. I see that this house is constructed with a back stairs. Ideal for our purposes."
"How's that?" Barnett asked.
"We have to leave them a way out," Moriarty said, "or they'll come out over us."
Mr. Maws pulled his revolver from under his jacket. "Shall we go then, sir?"
Moriarty nodded and pulled a police whistle from his trouser pocket. "When I blow this," he said.
Mr. Maws smiled. " 'Under the shadow of Death,' " he said firmly, " 'Under the stroke of the sword, Gain we our daily bread.' "
Barnett turned to him. "What's that?"
"Kipling," Mr. Maws explained. "Are we ready?"
"Don't use that weapon unless they fire first," Moriarty instructed. "What we're after is a maximum of noise and confusion, but preferably without gunfire." He thought for a second, and then continued. "Mr. Maws, you take the stairs. Barnett, start on this corridor, but keep away from the back stairs. We have once again become Scotland Yard," he said. "And there are at least fifty of us. But somehow we've forgotten to cover the back exits."
"How careless of us," Barnett said.
-
At that instant an upstairs door opened and footsteps sounded over their heads. The murmur of voices grew louder.
Moriarty put the whistle to his lips and blew a triple blast. "All right up there!" he yelled. "This is the police. All of you come down with your hands over your heads. Resistance is useless!"
There was a moment of shocked silence from upstairs and then the murmur turned into a babble and the sound of footsteps increased in number, volume, and tempo.
Barnett started opening and slamming doors and shouting official-sounding instructions. "Simmons," he yelled, "take your men around the back! Dwyer, check these rooms out!"
Mr. Maws stomped up the front stairs with the stolid tread of the invincible English policeman. "You are all under arrest," he bellowed in a deep voice. "It is my duty to inform each of you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Come along quietly, now!"
The milling footsteps upstairs broke into a panicked scurrying, as one of them found the back stairs and reported the fact to the others. A heavy sofa was pushed out into the upstairs hall facing the front staircase, and two men squatted behind it, pointing a brace of long-barreled revolvers at the advancing figure of Mr. Maws.
Mr. Maws dropped as someone's gun went off, and the bullet crashed through a print of Mercy Interceding for the Vanquished, which hung on the wall behind him. Mr. Maws's answering shot smashed into the door frame above the sofa.
There was a hurried whispering from behind the couch, and then a sliding sound, and then all was silent from above. Professor Moriarty climbed the stairs to where Mr. Maws lay and peered amusedly at the couch barrier. "The birds have flown," he said. "And a good thing, too."
Mr. Maws got up and dusted himself off. "Disgraceful!" he said. "I shall have to speak to that porter. I don't believe they clean this stair carpeting at all."
Barnett came up to join them. "Gone?" he asked.
"We have the building to ourselves," Moriarty said. "Except for the porter, and, I hope, Tolliver. You two go look for him. I wish to examine that meeting room and see if our friends left anything of interest in their haste."
"I hope those shots don't bring the real police," Barnett said.
"They may," Moriarty acknowledged. "In which case we are injured innocents. British stoic heroism. Saved a man from kidnappers — if Tolliver is here — but want no reward. After all, we didn't run away." He went up to the landing and boosted himself over the sofa. "But I'd better get a look at that room before they arrive."
Mr. Maws searched the rooms on the floor they were on, while Barnett climbed the last flight to the top floor and checked those rooms out. It was Barnett who found Tolliver. The third door he pushed open led to a lumber room full of disused furniture, Tolliver was securely trussed up and tied to a bed frame which rested against the far wall. Barnett cut the ropes with his pocketknife and released the brave little man.
"I heard the commotion when you arrived," Tolliver said. "What happened? If I might ask." He sat on a trunk and rubbed his arms briskly. "My hands are coming all over pins and needles," he explained. "They tied me a bit tight."
"It's good to see you, Mummer," Barnett said. "But you're going to have to become a bit more proficient at the art of following people so we don't have to rescue you every time you go out of an evening."
"I like that!" Tolliver said. " 'Ere I am trying to bring a bit of excitement into the lad's life, and 'e's full of reproach. After all, it's not 'im what got trussed up like a capon."
Barnett laughed. "Come on downstairs," he said. "The professor will want to say hello."
Moriarty was on his knees examining the floor in the meeting room when Barnett brought the Mummer down. "Don't touch anything!" he snapped as they entered the room. "I'm not through in here yet."
"You might at least," Barnett said, annoyed at Moriarty's lack of compassion, "tell the Mummer that you're glad to see him."
"Nonsense," Moriarty said, getting up and dusting off the knees of his trousers. "We're here, aren't we?"
"Well, I'm glad you come," Tolliver said. "I was beginning to get a bit concerned as to my future."
Mr. Maws appeared in the doorway. "Afternoon, Tolliver," he said. "Professor, I thought you might be interested to hear that I just glanced out a front window and noticed several large men taking up positions about the house."
"Scotland Yard," the Mummer said.
"Let us hope so," Moriarty said. He sighed. "No doubt they will remember about the back door. Ah, well. There doesn't seem to be anything of interest in this room, unfortunately. And to think, we had a whole room full of them here, and now they're all gone."
"Leaving nothing behind?" Barnett asked.
"Nothing of consuming interest," Moriarty said. "There's that hat" — he pointed—"and that picture, and a few cigarette butts of rather common brand."
Barnett went over to examine the picture, which was tacked to the wall by the door. A full-color portrait of Queen Victoria looking stuffily regal, it had been carefully cut out of a recent edition of the Illustrated London News.
"Well, well," Barnett said. "A patriotic bunch of anarchists. What will they think of next?"
-
The sound of someone pounding violently on the front door came up from below. "Open up!" an authoritarian voice bellowed. "This is the police!"
"Go down and let them in, Mr. Maws," Moriarty directed. But before Mr. Maws had reached the staircase, they heard the front door opening and the heavy feet of policemen treading on the stairs. "The porter!" Moriarty said. "I had quite forgotten about the poor porter. What must he think!"