"Very well," said the officer in the police-barge, who had conducted the
brief conversation. "It is a miserable night. Give way, my men. Steady
there. Put the light out." In an instant the light was lowered and extinguished, and the darkness
that reigned upon the surface of the Thames was like a darkness that
could be felt. It was difficult to conceive that it was not really
tangible. "Are they coming back?" That was the question that Todd asked of himself, as he grasped, to
steady himself, the heavy piece of iron that belonged to the
pile-driving machine. He listened most intently, until it was positively
painful to do so, and he began to fancy all sorts of strange noises in
the air and from the water. In a few moments, though, an actual
splashing sound put to route all imaginary noises, and he felt convinced
that the boat with the police was slowly returning towards the barge in
which he was concealed. There was, to be sure, still a hope that they would pass it; but it was
only a hope. Oh, how awfully full of apprehension was each passing moment now. It
might be that the police-galley was only going quietly back to its
proper station, after overtaking the wherry; but then it might be quite
otherwise, and the doubt was terrific. While that doubt lasted, it was
worse than the reality of danger. And now it was quite evident to the perception of Todd that the
police-boat was close to the barge, and he heard a voice say--

"Is that the pile-driving barge?" "Yes, sir," replied some one. "And they leave it, I suppose, as usual?" "No doubt, sir." "Well, pull alongside, and a couple of you jump in and see if all is
right. People leave their property exposed to all sorts of depredations,
and then blame us for not looking after it. Mind how you go, my men. Don't run foul of the barge." "No, sir. All's right." From the moment that this conversation had begun, Todd had remained
crouching down in the barge, like a man changed to stone. He heard every
word--those words upon which hung, or seemed to hang, his life, and his
grasp upon the massive piece of iron tightened. The police-boat gradually advanced, and finally just grated against the
side of the barge. A sudden thought took possession of Todd. With a yell, like that of a
mad-man, he, with preternatural strength, moved the heavy mass of iron,
and in one moment toppled it over the edge of the barge. Crash it went into the police-galley. There was then a shriek, and the
men were struggling in the water. The piece of iron had gone right
through the boat, staving to pieces. It filled and sank. [Illustration: Todd And The Police Galley.] "Help--help!" cried a voice, and then all was still as the grave for a
few moments. "It is done," said Todd. "Help! mercy!" said a voice again, and a dark figure rose up by the side
of the barge, clinging to it. Todd drew one of his pistols. He levelled it at the head of the figure. He was upon the point of pulling the trigger, when it struck him that
the flash and the report might be seen and heard from the shore. The
pistol was heavily mounted with brass at the butt-end of it. "Down!" said Todd. "Down!" He struck the clambering, half-drowned man upon the head, and with a
shriek he fell backwards into the water and disappeared. In another
moment Todd felt a pair of arms twining round him, and a voice cried--

"Murderer, I have you now! You cannot shake me off!" Todd made an effort, but, in truth, those wet and clinging arms held to
him like fate. "Fool," he said. "You will find drowning the easiest death for you to
meet." [Illustration: The Murder On The Thames--Todd's Narrow Escape.] "Help--help! murder!" shouted his assailant. The pistol was still in Todd's grasp. With a devilish ingenuity, he
thrust the barrel of it under his arm and felt that it touched his
assailant. He pulled the trigger, and then he and the man who held him
fell to the bottom of the barge together. Todd kicked and plunged until he got uppermost, and then he felt for the
throat of the other, and when he got a clutch of it he held it with a
gripe of iron. "Fool," he said. "Did you think that one driven to such desperation as I
am, would be conquered so easily?" There was no reply. Todd lifted up the head of the man, and it hung
limply and flaccidly from the neck. He was quite dead. The pistol-bullet
had gone through his heart, and death was instantaneous. "Another one," said Todd, as he sprang to his feet and stood upon the
dead body. "Another one sacrificed to my vengeance. Let those only
interfere with me who are tired of life." He placed his hand to his ear now, to listen if there were any
indications of others of the boat's crew stirring; but all was still. No
sound, save the lazy ripple of the tide past the old barge on which he
was, met his ears. "It is over," he said. "It is quite over now. That one great danger is
past now." The rain began to fall quicker, and splashed upon the half deck of the
barge. Todd felt that he was thoroughly wet through; but all minor ills
he could now laugh at, that he had escaped the one great peril of
capture. He felt that his life had hung upon a thread, and that only the
recent accident had saved him; for to be captured, was to him equivalent
to death. "All gone!" he whispered. "They are all gone! Well--well! They would
have dragged me to a prison, and then to a scaffold! Self-defence is a
sound principle, and for that I have fought!" A sudden gust of wind got up at that moment, and came howling past Todd,
and ruffling upon the surface of the river; but all was still around the
barge. There was now no cry for mercy--no shout for help--no bubbling
shriek of some swimmer, who was yet sinking to death, as the waters
closed over him. "Yes," said Todd, as his long hair blew out like snakes in the wind, "I
am alone here now. They are all dead, and I could do it again if it had
to be done." CHAPTER CLXII. ANOTHER BOAT. It seemed now as though the lull in the weather was over; for after that
one gust of wind, there came others; and in the course of a very short
time, indeed, the surface of the water was much agitated, and such a
howling noise was kept up by the wind, that Todd thought every moment
that he heard the voices of his foes. "What am I to do now?" he said. "Oh, what am I to do? I dare not wait
here until daylight. That would be destruction. What is to become of
me?" He came round the sides of the barge with the hope that some wherry had
been moored to it, but he found that that hope was a fallacious one
indeed. There was the gloomy-looking vessel moored far out in the
stream, with him as its only passenger. Any one without Todd's load of guilt upon his soul, and upon better
terms with human nature, could soon have got assistance, for the
distance from the shore was by no means so great but that his voice must
have been heard had he chosen to exert it; but that would not do for
him.