When Flinthead had gone, Halfabar stepped up to Napoleon and gave him a warrior's helmet and a special jacket. Napoleon put them on and tugged the lance from the corpse on the floor and he rapped the bloody tip of it against Knocker's chest. "You shuddup, sonny," he said. "You're a nobody and nobody wants to hear you."
By way of reply Knocker spat directly into Napoleon's face and the saliva trickled down his nose. Angered, Napoleon twirled the lance expertly in one hand and caught Knocker a stinging blow across the head and Knocker fell to his knees.
Although bound and outnumbered by the bodyguard Knocker's companions stepped forward and stood fearlessly between Napoleon and his victim.
"Leave it alone," said Stonks, in an untroubled voice. "Leave it alone, you skinny fart, or I'll kill you."
"Yes," said Sydney, "aren't you satisfied with your day's work, yet, Wendle?"
Napoleon's face clouded over for an instant, then he shook himself and said to Halfabar, "Right, let's get them out of here."
The Adventurers were taken only a short way into one of the corridors before Napoleon halted them and opened a heavy iron door. With blows raining over their heads they were forced to enter a small and damp dungeon, where green slime dripped and oozed from the walls. It was lit by one weak electric bulb and there were no seats or beds, only some dirty and mildewed sacks piled in one corner.
Once they were in the cell Halfabar entered and, protected by others of the bodyguard, he cut the bonds from the Borribles' hands.
"Ain't that cosy," he said when he'd finished, and leering into Orococco's face he added, "safe and sound the lot of you."
Orococco bared his teeth at the Wendle, making him jump backwards.
"I'm going to hold you under the water next time, friend, but I will not let you up until you have stopped breathing that stinking breath of yours. Couldn't you sprinkle a little deodorant on your cornflakes and make a few friends?"
Halfabar raised his hand to strike Orococco but he remembered in time that the Totter now had his hands free and so he contented himself with a sneer. He backed to the door and pulled it to; the noise of its closing and locking echoed up and down the tunnels and was still echoing long after the last Wendle footsteps had faded into the distance.
The Borribles stood disconsolate in their prison. They could not even look at one another and it was some time before they could talk. A mixture of shame, rage and hatred, despair and disbelief, held them tongue-tied. Speech was impossible. Quarter-of-an-hour went by, then half-an-hour, and the silence became hard and solid. At last Knocker broke into a stream of swearing that he kept rushing along for minutes on end. He thought of every Borrible curse he could remember and enlarged and embroidered on it. He went backwards and forwards through The Borrible Book of Proverbs and turned them into maledictions on the head of Napoleon Boot. He wove garlands of evil words around that Wendle's name and when he had finished and was breathless and his memory and mind were empty he felt better, and so did those who had listened to him and had joined in his song of hate with imprecations of their own.
"I still can't believe it," said Chalotte. "What made him do it?"
"Once a Wendle always a Wendle," said Knocker bitterly and that was enough explanation for him and he said no more.
"I don't think we ought to be too downhearted," said Stonks in his flat, straightforward manner. "After all, we got there and back again and did what we said we'd do."
"I'm not blaming anyone," said Chalotte, looking at Knocker, "but if it hadn't been for that money, we'd have been on our way home by now."
There was silence but Knocker didn't look up, nor did he speak.
"Well, it's happened," said Vulge. "It's no one's fault; it's happened. After all, we're still alive."
Orococco laughed harshly. "Not for long, we ain't."
"It was such a dirty trick, coming from an Adventurer, after all he said, too," said Torreycanyon, and again they lapsed into a long and moody silence.
They were kept incommunicado for many days and nights. Food was brought to them but it was the meanest of cold scraps and it was flung at them through a barely opened door. They became weak through lack of food and more and more depressed as the days went by. Even if they managed to open the heavy iron door of their dungeon, they were certain to become lost in the tangle of culverts and corridors that was Wendle country, and on their heels would be warriors from the toughest of all the London tribes. Hard and dedicated they were, the Wendles, and they knew every inch of their own territory. They knew every tunnel, every fathom of the river and every yard of underground sewer within a radius of miles. The idea of escape receded further and further from the captives' minds, and their hatred of Napoleon Boot dulled to a slow burning ache.
One day, or night, some weeks later, the door to the cell opened quietly and, after a moment's pause, clicked shut. The Borribles did not look up, it would only be some inedible meal in a bucket.
When Vulge rolled over in his blanket, which was green with damp mould, like all the others, he saw, to his surprise, the slight figure of Napoleon Boot. Napoleon looked splendid. His helmet of tin was burnished and his orange jacket gleamed in the light of the electric bulb. His waders were new and shone blackly and they fitted tightly to his calves and thighs. He had two steel catapults in his belt and a double bandolier of the choicest stones. He looked proud and well-fed, though his face had once more taken on the green tinge that touched the complexion of all Wendles.
Napoleon raised a finger to his lips. The Stepney Borrible couldn't believe his eyes.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"We're getting out," said Napoleon, his voice quiet but tense with excitement.
Hearing this strange conversation, the others looked up and rolled out of their damp couches.
"Be dead quiet," said Napoleon whispering, "or you'll just be dead."
The captives rose to their feet, gazing at each other with puzzlement.
"Is this some new trick?" asked Sydney. She had liked Napoleon ever since the day he had stolen the boat in Battersea Park, and she had taken his deception very hard.
"I haven't got time to explain now," said Napoleon. "You'll have to trust me."
Knocker laughed quietly. "Trust the honest Wendle and end up in prison?"
"Kill him," said Torreycanyon, affecting to look at his fingernails.
Napoleon's face creased with anguish. "There isn't much time, don't be stupid."
"What are you going to do this time?" said Knocker. "Let us loose in the tunnels so the bodyguard can practise on us? Hunt us down one by one and shove us under the Wandle mud when they catch us? I've heard that's one of your favourite sports."
"Oh, listen," said Napoleon quickly, "and listen well, because every minute we waste is precious. Flinthead knew all the time about the Rumble money, even before the expedition started. He sent me on the Adventure in the first place to keep an eye on you all, and find the money—and watch it."
"I could see that," said Knocker with a sneer, "that much was obvious."
"On the way back," continued Napoleon, "my job was to lead you into the Wandle and see that you suspected nothing, so that Flinthead could capture you and the money."
"You did it very well, didn't you?" said Bingo. "You fooled me completely—but then I only fought side by side with you in the Library. I thought we were mates . . ."
"Shuddup," said Napoleon uncomfortably. "When we got back to King George's, I didn't know what to do. There was you lot on the one hand, my tribe on the other. I worried about it all the time. Anyway, we couldn't have got away at that stage, Flinthead had patrols everywhere. He doesn't mess about, you know. So there was only one thing I could do—go ahead with Flinthead's plan. It wasn't easy being hated by you all . . . and now, if I help you escape, I shall be hated by my own tribe. I'd like to see you in the same position. What would you make of it?"
"If all this is true," asked Torreycanyon, "why has it taken you so long to make up your mind?"
"I've been waiting for the right opportunity," said Napoleon. "It won't be easy getting out of here—and today's a good day."
"What's so special about today?" asked Chalotte.
"There was a big stealing expedition yesterday," said Napoleon, speaking more easily. "Most of us were out, hard at it. Now they're sleeping. There's to be a big celebration soon, and as Knocker said, it is likely that you will be released into the tunnels one by one for the bodyguard to hunt down. I . . . I . . . would be one of them; I couldn't stand that . . . so . . . well, there you are."
"Well," said Orococco, "I don't care whether he's telling the truth or a lie. I'm for getting out of here. Anything's better than staying in this hole, even a scrap with the bodyguard and a muddy grave in the Wandle."
"Would Flinthead really do that, just for the box of money?" asked Chalotte.
"Strange things have happened to these Borribles," said Stonks. "We don't know how far they'd go."
"You've got to believe me," pleaded Napoleon. "This is your only chance to get out. You know what they'll do with me if they catch me alive, don't you?"
They looked at him without speaking.
"They'll stake me out on the mud flats, at high water mark, and let me drown a little each day, until one day the water and muck will come a little higher, and then I will drown. You know, in the end I am being more loyal to the Adventure than anyone."