THE JUMPER

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20908, 13 September 1939, Page 10

THE JUMPER

By JOHN CREASEY

CHAPTER XVIII. (continued) There was only one thing to do, and he did it. Taking his life in his hands he leapt from the cab which £was still moving at forty miles an hour. He llung himself forward, trying to get as much balance from the momentum of the car as possible, and then his feet touched the soft earth of the bank. Never in his life had be been so relieved to find the earth give way beneath his feel, instead of being hard. Had it been the usual grass-covered bank lie knew that the jolt as he landed would probably have broken both legs. Hut as it was, his shoes sunk deeply into the soil, and when he plunged forward on his face the same thing happened. His mouth, eyes and nose were filled with dirt, but the shock to his body was comparatively small, lie lay there for a few seconds, helpless, hardly able to breathe. Something.seemed to be creating a fiery din. and it was that which forced him cut of his semi-consciousness. For lie knew that the cab bad smashed. •He climbed stiffly to his feet and saw just what had happened. The cab had gone nose-first into the bank and parts of it were flung all about the road. The pieces of glass flew through the air and dropped within a few inches of the Jumper was standing. His lips tightened and his fi'rst thought was for the plucky Cockney driver. By some chance the man was still sitting at his wheel, which had been broken and sent flying past him. He was conscious and looking towards the Jumper who, gathering strength as he moved, leapt towards him. Rut he was still three yards from the cab when the first flames shot out from the smashed radiator. Fire! But that was not the worst. The Jumper neared him, bellowing as he went. “Get out, man! Get out!” The cabby’s voice was low-pitched, wracked with pain. “No luck, mate. I’m stuck! Keep away, yer fool, or you’ll be for it loo.” The sublime heroism of the words did not strike the Jumper at the moment, although later he remembered them very clearly. Now, however, he took no more notice of them than if the driver had not spoken. The flames were mounting, and he needed no telling what had happened. The petrol tank had burst in the collision, and the flames were likely to envelope the cab before many seconds passed. But he had to get the driver outl A Fight For Life He reached him with flames licking at his hair and clothes. It seemed incredible that such fire as this could have been cerated in so short a time, but there it was. In a few moments the cab would be a twisted mass of white-hot metal, and unless be could manage to get him out of the driver’s seat the debris would include human bones. The Jumper saw what was the trouble very quickly. The steering column and the gear lever had been forced over but not broken, and they were jamming tightly against the driver’s legs. The man was making desperate efforts to get away, but be was failing, apparently because his left arm was hanging limp by his side. It had been broken in the crash, and he could only pluck desperately at the things holding him down, with his right hand. The Jumper added his strength, without panic. He knew that he could waste a igreat deal of strength uselessly, and he did not propose to fall into that fatal error. Instead, he clambered on to the running board, heedless of the roaring flames, hardly conscious of the twisted face of the taxi-driver, intent only on, one thing—getting the man free. He placed both hands on the broken steering column and exerted every ounce of strength he had to push it away from the cabby’s legs, for a moment he thought that it was going to be too much for him, but the steering-column had obviously been fractured in the collision, and suddenly it snapped. One leg was free. There now remained the gear lever, which might prove a much more difficult task, hut the Jumper leaped on it. The metal of the lever was hot against the bare flesh of his hands, lie was breathing with great difficulty, gulping in gasps of heat-laden air. The muscles or his back and arms stood out, and, and a vein on his forehead looked like whipcord. •Gradually he forced the lever back. The cabby was still conscious, and he realised that he could do nothing by getting into a frenzy. As his rescuer pushed at the lever he pulled his leg from out of that dreadful vicelike grasp. Tile Jumper hardly realised that the lever was moving, but at last the cabby was able to free himself: as lie did so he gasped: “0.K., guv’nof!” It was not yet finished, however. The man tried to stand up, but his legs refused to bear him. Now the two of them were completely surrounded by flames, and their clothes were burning in a dozen places. The Jumper knew that it was a matter of seconds only before they collapsed, and with an almost superhuman effort he gripped the cabby’s shoulders and, still clinging to them, jumped out. They half fell to the ground, with the flames licking around them every second, but the Jumper continued to haul at the man, and very soo-n they were drinking in great gulps of clean air. They were outside the range of the flames t It seemed incredible. Afterwards the Jumper told himself that he had never cxnected to get out of it alive, and certainly the cabby had given himself up for lost. But they were saved, but for the flames which were even now burning and gaining hold on their clothes. The Jumper remembered the soft earth of the bank into which he had fallen, and he knew that it could once again prove his salvation. Me dragged the badly injured taxi-man towards the bank, and —it being no time for gentleness—pushed the man to the earth and let him roll down the bank. The heavy, damp soil did the trick, while the Juniper dropped to it snd rolled himself like a bird taking a mud-bath. -But for the -terrible circumstances, it would have been comical. Yet even the Jumper could not find a smile. Safe at Last j He sat back, breathing heavily, j uardiy knowing where he was or what

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he was doing. Twenty yards away from him, so near in .fact that they could feel the heat of the flames, was a roaring conflagration.

Slowly he recovered his senses, and his first thought was for the man at his side. [Probably the shock of that fall down the bank—which had, however certainly saved his life —had proved too much for the man, who had lost consciousness. For a few moments the Jumper told himself he could not summon the strength to examine the cabby and try to discover the extent of his injuries. lie did contrive, however, to look at his own hands and legs, and lie told himself that lie had escaped very lightly. Apart from a few raw burns on his hands lie had suffered little. lie almost prayed for a passing motorist, and his prayer was answered with unexpected speed. Suddenly the glare of headlights merged in the flames of Hie burning taxi, and the Jumper sprang to his feet and staggered towards Hie car, which pulled up with squealing brakes. It took only a few minutes for.the Jumper to explain what had happened. The driver of the car was a middle-aged man who proved himself to be useful in emergency. lie helped the Jumper to carry the taxi-man to the rear of his car, and then the Jumper sat by him. The car reversed quickly and was soon humming towards Twickenham and the nearest hospital. The Jumper closing his eyes as they went along, but his thoughts were grim. He had saved a man’s life—but Brigham had escaped. • • • • It was one o’clock before the Jumper, heavily bandaged and feeling much better for the strong whiskies and sodas which he had consumed at the hospital, was able to get to the telephone. He had already given a precis of the events of the night to a local policeman, but he was particularly anxious to have a word with Crabber. As he expected, the Chief Inspector was at the Y’ard. Crabber listened in silence to the Jumper's story, and James Dawlish couid not refrain from believing that the man at the Yard was almost pleased that the Special Branch man’s efforts had failed so signally. Crabber was somewhat of a trial at times. A moment later he was something mucli more—to Dawlish ho seemed like a messenger of death. •For Crabber spoke quietly and calmly. “Well, I’m glad you’re not worse, Dawlish. But I'm afraid there’s been another bad development.” Dawlish's mind sprang immediately to Joan Morgan, and his question honed across the wires. “in what way?” “With Miss Morgan,” said Grabber, his words like a death knell to Dawlish’s mind. “She hadn’t been at the Y'ampton more than lialf-an-hour before there was a raid —and she's gone!" (To Be Continued)