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he was worth.
    “All right, all right. Let him up, men.” Flanagan’s stern, no-nonsense voice was familiar. “Let’s see what he has to say for himself. Where do you think you’re on about, you, climbin’ up the side of a wall like a blasted spider?”
    “Easy, boys,” a deep baritone rumbled in response.
    When Jake heard Derek Stone’s voice and realized the bobbies had indeed caught him, he could have kicked himself for delaying the warrior with his questions.
    “Armed to the teeth, he is, sir!”
    “So I see,” Constable Flanagan replied. “Drop your weapons, you! Put your hands up! Now!”
    “Sir, look! He’s got blood on him!”
    “Keep him surrounded, lads. How’d you get that blood on you, eh?”
    “I, ah, cut myself,” Derek answered in a bored tone.
    “Right. Mister, you better put them weapons down, nice and slow.”
    “All right, all right, take it easy,” Derek soothed.
    “Don’t you ‘take it easy’ me! I’m placing you under arrest!”
    “For what?” Derek retorted.
    “Disturbin’ the peace! Don’t know yet what you’ve done, but you’re up to no good, by the look o’ you. An innocent man don’t run when he’s told to halt!”
    At that moment, thankfully, Jake discovered a chink in the mortar between two bricks. He leaned down, spying through it. A knot formed in his stomach as he watched the policemen encircling Derek Stone.
    He bent down slowly, calmly, to place his weapons on the ground, as instructed.
    Meanwhile, closer by, one of the bobbies came poking around in the alley where they had fought. He stopped with a gasp. “Constable Flanagan, sir, come quick! There’s a dead man here with a knife in his back!”
    Flanagan pointed at Derek in fury. “Arrest him, now!”
    The warrior let out a sigh as all the bobbies rushed him. Jake looked on, aghast, as the policemen piled atop the rude hero who had saved his life, while those who had attacked him were nowhere to be seen.
    From under the pile of policemen, Derek cursed, but Jake noticed he did not lift a finger to fight off the bobbies the way he’d thrashed the other three. Dangerous as he was, at least he seemed to have a clear idea of who was good or bad.
    “Jenkins, bring the handcuffs!” Flanagan ordered. “Shackle his ankles, too! Fletcher, comb the alley for any clues of what went on here.”
    “Yes, sir!”
    When the officers backed away, Derek was on his stomach on the ground, his wrists bound behind him, his dark mane hanging in his angry face.
    Flanagan proudly dusted off his hands and gave Derek an insolent nudge with his toe. “You’re a murderer, aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. “Why don’t you confess right now and save us the trouble? We both know you’re goin’ to hang for this.”
    Jake paled.
    “It’s not how it looks,” Derek said.
    “If I had a penny for each time I heard that! Why’d you kill him, eh?”
    “Didn’t.”
    “I don’t see anyone else ‘round here that could’ve done it. Stabbed him right in the back, didn’t you?”
    “Nah, not my style,” Derek growled.
    Flanagan looked appalled at this. “What are you, some sort of monster?”
    Derek laughed darkly. “Something like that,” he snarled back, which even Jake knew wasn’t smart.
    Clunk. The sound of a skull getting a whack of the nightstick. The London police never did seem to appreciate sarcasm, as Jake himself had learned the hard way.
    A few minutes later, they threw Derek into the police wagon that had been summoned, a heavy black carriage fortified with metal bars.
    Through the chink in the brick wall, Jake watched, appalled, as they drove Derek Stone away. Oh, this is terrible! What am I going to do? He couldn’t remember the last time an adult had actually helped him.
    He wasn’t fond of them as a species, but this Stone fellow had just risked his neck for him and got arrested for his pains, no doubt to be charged with murder and, with Jake’s luck, probably sent to