“Steel Spring,” whispered the inspector, but no Steel Spring was present to respond.  The fellow had stolen away unperceived as soon as the handcuffs were put on Jackson’s wrists,’ disliking the idea of fighting his way from the room.  The act was characteristic of the man, and we cursed him in our hearts for a coward and a traitor.

Here were but three of us to oppose nearly thirty, and to add to our trouble it was not only necessary that we should get clear ourselves, but that we should take our prisoner with us; and while we knew that in case of a rush we would stand but a slim chance, we determined that we would dispute our lives with the ruffians, and make every shot in our revolvers tell.

“If that coward of a Steel Spring was only here,” muttered the inspector.

“He would be of little use to us,” I remarked, “for he has not pluck enough to fight a hedgehog, if it showed spirit.”

“I expected to send him for the reserved police force that I have posted near at hand.  I told them to wait until they got word from me, and they will obey orders.”

“It is useless to repine,” Fred exclaimed.  “Let us make a bold push for the street, and trust to our usual good luck and boldness for an escape.”

“Or, had we better sit here until morning, and pretend to drink as hard as those around us?  By daylight most of those present will be either drunk or asleep, and then we could get off without much of a struggle.”

The advice of the inspector was good, and perhaps we should have adopted it; but just at that moment a burly fellow staggered towards our table, and seemed determined to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance.

“You coves don’t seem to drink as though you liked our lush,” he began, steadying himself by holding on to the table with one hand, and pointing to the half-filled glasses before us.  “If the liquor isn’t good why don’t you say so, and be hanged to you,” he continued.

We made a short reply that we liked the liquor very much, and was going to drink our share of it as soon as we got some business arranged.

“Well, let us have a rousing drink, and I’ll pay for it,” our troublesome friend continued, and in spite of our declaration he ordered a pint of whiskey, and then sat down beside us as though he was determined to see that full justice was done to his treat.

I shoved Jackson’s hands under the table so that his bracelets could not be seen, and then I held them in that position until the liquor was brought, when a new source of trouble awaited us.  It was necessary, to escape without a quarrel, that each of us should honor the unexpected treat by partaking of it; but when it came Jackson’s turn to drink, we all protested that he had his reasons for not imbibing, but our troublesome friend overruled them.

“He shall drink, by G——­d, or fight,” roared the ruffian; and as he spoke we saw, with some misgivings, that our corner of the room was the centre of attraction, and that the sleeping thieves were waking up, and listening to hear what the row was about.