Page:WW Jacobs--The lady of the barge.djvu/169
other, on his knees, still held the man down. The standing figure felt in his pocket, and, striking a match, lit the gas.
The light fell on the flushed face and fair beard of the sergeant. He was bare-headed, and his hair dishevelled. Burleigh entered the room and gazed eagerly at the half-insensible man on the floor — a short, thick-set fellow with a white, dirty face and a black moustache. His lip was cut and bled down his neck. Burleigh glanced furtively at the table. The cloth had come off in the struggle, and was now in the place where he had left Fletcher.
"Hot work, sir," said the sergeant, with a smile. "It's fortunate we were handy."
The prisoner raised a heavy head and looked up with unmistakable terror in his eyes.
"All right, sir," he said, trembling, as the constable increased the pressure of his knee. "I 'ain't been in the house ten minutes altogether. By———, I've not."
The sergeant regarded him curiously.
"It don't signify," he said, slowly; "ten minutes or ten seconds won't make any difference."