This incident the genius of my friend Mr. Millais is about to render immortal.
Little's shout of delight brought Ransome splashing over directly.
They took up the cradle and contents to carry it home, when all of a sudden Ransome's eye detected a finger protruding through a hole in the box.
"Hallo!" said he. "Why, there's a body inside that box."
"Good heavens!" said Little, "he may be alive."
With that he made a rush and went in over head and ears.
"Confound it" said he as soon as he got his breath. But, being in for it now, he swam to the box, and getting behind it, shoved it before him to Ransome's feet.
Ransome tried to open it, but it shut with a spring. However, there were air-holes, and still this finger sticking out of one--for a signal no doubt.
"Are ye alive or dead?" shouted Ransome to the box. "Let me out and you'll see," replied the box; and the sound seemed to issue from the bowels of the earth.
Little had his hatchet in his pocket and set to work to try and open it. The occupant assisted him with advice how to proceed, all of which sounded subterraneous.
"Hold your jaw!" said Little. "Do you think you can teach me?"
By a considerable exertion of strength as well as skill, he at last got the box open, and discovered the occupant seated pale and chattering, with knees tucked up.
The two men lent him a hand to help him up; Ransome gave a slight start, and then expressed the warmest satisfaction.
"Thank Heaven!" said he. "Shake hands, old fellow. I'm downright glad. I've been groaning over you: but I might have known you'd find some way to slip out of trouble. Mr. Little, this is Shifty himself. Please put your arm under his; he is as strong as iron, and as slippery as an eel."
The Shifty, hearing this account given of himself, instantly collapsed, and made himself weak as water, and tottered from one of his guards to the other in turn.
"I was all that once, Mr. Ransome," said he, in a voice that became suddenly as feeble as his body, "but this fearful night has changed me. Miraculously preserved from destruction, I have renounced my errors, and vowed to lead a new life. Conduct me at once to a clergyman, that I may confess and repent, and disown my past life with horror; then swear me in a special constable, and let me have the honor of acting under your orders, and of co-operating with you, sir" (to Little), "in your Christian and charitable acts. Let me go about with you, gentlemen, and relieve the sufferings of others, as you have relieved mine."
"There," said Ransome, proudly; "there's a man for you. He knows every move of the game--can patter like an archbishop." So saying, he handcuffed the Shifty with such enthusiasm that the convert swore a horrible oath at him.
Ransome apologized, and beckoning a constable, handed him the Shifty.
"Take him to the Town Hall, and give him every comfort. He is Number One."
This man's escape was not so strange as it appeared. The flood never bombarded his house--he was only on the hem of it. It rose and filled his house, whereupon he bored three holes in his great chest, and got in. He washed about the room till the abating flood contracted, and then it sucked him and his box out of the window.
He got frightened, and let the lid down, and so drifted about till at last he floated into the hands of justice.
Little and Ransome carried the child away, and it was conveyed to the hospital and a healthy nurse assigned it.
Ransome prevailed on Little to go home, change his wet clothes and lie down for an hour or two. He consented, but first gave Ransome an order to lay out a thousand pounds, at his expense, in relief of the sufferers.
Then he went home, sent a message to Raby Hall, that he was all right, took off his clothes, rolled exhausted into bed, and slept till the afternoon.
At four o'clock he rose, got into a hansom, and drove up to Woodbine Villa, the happiest man in England.
He inquired for Miss Carden. The man said he believed she was not up, but would inquire.
"Do," said Little. "Tell her who it is. I'll wait in the dining-room."
He walked into the dining-room before the man could object, and there he found a sick gentleman, with Dr. Amboyne and a surgeon examining him. The patient lay on a sofa, extremely pale, and groaning with pain.
One glance sufficed. It was Frederick Coventry.