The caravan was by this time in front of the “Blue Dolphin.” It looked bright and radiant by the light of the early morning sun, the brass knocker on the door had an extra polish, the horse was well groomed, and taken altogether it was a most respectable turn out.
“There!” said Macarty, pointing to the yellow machine. “It’s fit for a prince, bedad; it’s as clane as a new pin, and as bright as a newly-polished silver tankard.”
“And its driver?”
No. 40.
PEACE VISITED BY A DETECTIVE.
“Aisy, now, aisy. Well, its dhriver is as sharp as a steel thrap. Now then, are you ready?”
“Quite ready; but wait a bit, I must fetch my luggage and pay the reckoning. When this has been done I am at your service.”
Peace went into the house, settled with the landlord, and returned with his bag, which he had made into a parcel with brown paper and string. He got up in front of the caravan, which was driven off by the good-natured Mr. McCarty.
Peace felt perfectly well assured that he was safe from the prying eyes of the police while he sat beside his newly-made friend McCarty, who evidently believed him to be a hawker, never for a moment suspecting the depredations he had been committing.