“Lower, away, Larry,” said Mr Fanshawe; “get him half-way down till I feel his pockets to see if he’s got any arms about him.”
Larry let the rope slip through the pulley till the suspended one was three feet from the floor, looking not unlike a lobster on the end of a string.
“That’s all right,” said Dicky, after a hurried investigation. “Down with him—he’s not armed.”
Next moment Mr Murphy was seated on the floor with not a sign of fight in him. He put his hand to the top of his head as if to see whether it was on, and then he glanced round him at his captors, the rope, the beam and the pulley, taking the situation in with a dazed grin.
“Faith, I thought I was goin’ to hiven,” said Mr Murphy, “back-side up. Sure, it was as nate a trap as ever I was caught in. Larry Lyburn, who’s the gintleman at all? Open your ugly gob and introjuice me.”
“Faith, thin,” said Mr Murphy, “he’s a fine figure of a gintleman, and it’s I that am proud to make his acqueentance; and now that he’s done pokin’ his fun at me, maybe he’ll be lettin’ me say good-marnin’ to him, for it’s home I ought to have been an hour ago.”
“Look here,” said Mr Fanshawe, half amused at the cool impudence of this speech, “what are you doing here?”
“Faith, I’m sittin’ on the flure,” said Mr Murphy, with an ape-like grin. Then, like a flash, he flung himself forward, seized Mr Fanshawe by the foot, and next moment the two men were struggling in a life-and-death embrace.
“Hit him a belt on the head wid the hammer!” cried Patsy. “Have at him, Larry, or he’ll be murdherin’ the masther.”
“Don’t hit, don’t hit,” cried Dicky, “I’ve got him under!”
He had, in fact, got a knee on either arm of his opponent, and Mr Murphy, helpless as a baby, lay on the flat of his back staring up at his captor panting, and with a grin on his broad, red face.
“Now, you bounder,” cried Dicky, “what do you mean—eh!”
“Aisy, aisy!” gasped the recumbent one. “I gives in—sure, I was only makin’ a thry.”
“You, is, begorra!” cried Mr Murphy, with a genuine ring in his tone. “Let me up on me pins, and I’ll go aisy, but don’t be bindin’ me, or I’ll tear the house down.”
“Up you get,” said Dicky. “You know you have no chance with me, so I won’t bind you.”
“Faith, and I knew I was daelin’ wid a gintleman,” said the other, standing up and shaking himself. “Glory be to God, who’s this?”