“‘Oh!’ I shouted, ’Let me go!  Let go my hands or I’ll call for the police!’

“This appeal had the desired effect.  The dimly lighted doorway framed the figure of Spotty Bamber, with revolver poised, peering cautiously into the darkness.

“I renewed my protests, and, retiring to the darkest corner, shuffled noisily about the brick floor.

“’’Ave yer got ‘im, Alf?’ inquired the discreet Bamber, leaning forward and stepping over the sill.  I continued to dance heavily in my corner and to utter breathless snorts and exclamations such as, ’Let go, I tell you!’ ‘Aha! would you?’ and so forth.  Bamber took another step forward, craned his neck and called out, ’Shove ’im over this way, Alf, so as I can—­’

“He did not finish the sentence.  Watching him, I saw his feet suddenly fly from under him, the revolver clattered on the cellar floor, and Spotty, himself, having slipped half-way down the steps, fell over the edge on to the hard brick pavement.

“As he picked himself up, breathing heavily, I dropped the concussor into the big pocket of my apron and pounced on him.  He uttered a yell of terror and began to struggle like a maniac to free himself from my grip, while I edged him away from the dangerous vicinity of the revolver.  At first he was disposed to show a good deal of fight, and, as we gyrated round the cellar, tugging, thrusting, wrenching and kicking, I found the strenuous muscular exercise strangely exhilarating.  Evidently there is something to be said for the ‘simple life,’ as lived in those primitive communities where every man is his own policeman.

“But this physically stimulating bout came to a sudden end.  Our mazy revolutions brought us presently near the foot of the steps, and here Spotty tripped over the prostrate form of the third man.  He staggered back a few paces and uttered a husky shriek, and then we came down together on top of the Jew.  That finished him.  The contact with those two motionless shapes shattered his nerves utterly and reduced him to sheer panic.  He ceased to fight and only whimpered for mercy.

“It was very unpleasant.  As long as the fight was hot and strenuous, the revived instincts of long-forgotten primitive ancestors kept my blood racing.  But, with the first cry for mercy, all my exhilaration died out and the degenerate emotions of civilized man began to make themselves felt.  If I hesitated I was lost.  At every pitiful bleat I felt myself weakening.  There was only one thing to do, and I did it—­with the concussor.

“Verbal description is a slow affair compared with action.  The whole set of events that I have narrated occupied but a few minutes.  When I unbolted the parlor door and found a somnolent navvy waiting to be shaved, I realized with astonishment how brief the interlude had been.

“‘Hope I haven’t kept you waiting,’ I said, anxious to learn if he had heard anything unusual.

“‘No,’ he replied, ’I’ve only just come in.  Didn’t expect to find you open.’