He attempted to
wrench himself free, but Rolfe had rushed to his superior's assistance,
and drew the baton with which he had provided himself when he set out
from Scotland Yard.
"You needn't bother about using that thing," said the young man
contemptuously. "I'm not a fool; I realise you've got me."
"We'll not give you another chance." Inspector Chippenfield dexterously
snapped a pair of handcuffs on the young man's wrists.
"What are these for?" said the captive, regarding them sullenly.
"You'll know soon enough when we get you upstairs," replied the
inspector. "Now then, up you go."
They reascended the stairs in silence, Inspector Chippenfield and Rolfe
walking on each side of their prisoner holding him by the arms, in case
he tried to make another bolt. They reached the flat and found the front
door open as they had left it. The inspector entered the hall and
unlocked the drawing-room door.
The girl was sitting on the chair where they had left her, with her head
bowed down in an attitude of the deepest dejection. She straightened
herself suddenly as they entered, and launched a terrified glance at the
young man.
"Oh, Fred!" she gasped.
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