The Saint Meets His Match (She was a Lady)

The man on the floor pulled his cap off his eyes and blinked dazedly about him. He was not a beautiful sight. The suit he wore was stained and dusty. Portions of a pair of vividly striped socks were visible between the frayed ends of his trousers and the tops of a pair of muddy boots. Round his neck, presumably as a substitute for shirt and collar and tie, he wore a red choker. His cap was very purple. It appeared to be several days since he had last shaved, and a black shield obscuring one eye gave his face a sinister and unsavoury appearance. And when he spoke he whined.           

"I wasn't doin' no 'arm, guv'nor."

Harver reached out one ham-like hand to the man's collar and yanked him to his feet.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"George," said the burglar miserably.

"George what?"

"Albert George."

Harver shook his prisoner like a rat.

"And what were you doing there?"

"Oh, lay off him, Red," said Ganning. "He's nothing to do with this."

Essenden came closer.

"We don't know that," he said. "This might be one of her tricks. Anyway, even if he isn't anything to do with it, he may have heard us talking."

Harver shook the captive again.

"How much did you hear?" he snarled.

A look of fear came into the eyes of Albert George.

"I didn't 'ear nuffin', s'welp me, I didn't."

"Liar!" said Flash Arne delicately.

"S'welp me," wailed the prisoner, "I didn't 'ear nuffin'."

Harver chuckled throatily.

"I'll s'welp you," he said, "if you don't remember some­thing. Who told you to come here?"

"S'welp me—"

Harver drove his fist into the man's chest, sending him reeling back against the wall.

"I promised I'd s'welp you," he said, "and I have. Now, are you going to talk?"

He followed up his victim with measured, ponderous strides, and the slighter man cowered back. Arne and Keld and Ganning stood watching dispassionately. The prisoner shrank away, his face contorted with terror. And as Harver came within striking distance again and his fist went back for another blow, Albert George voiced a sharp, shrill yelp of panic.

"S'welp me!"

He ducked frantically, and Harver's fist smashed shat­teringly into the wall. George scuttled into a corner and crouched there, but Harver turned like an enraged bull and came after him.

"I'll talk," screamed the prisoner. "Don't hit me again——"

Harver seemed about to refuse the offer, but Essenden put himself between the two men.

"Wait a minute," he said. "There'll be time for that later. We'll hear what he's got to say."

Albert George huddled against the wall.