“I’ll go a little way with you, Bill,” he said, “and put up at a hotel, and the sooner I am housed the better. There will be a rare outcry in the morning, but that matters but little, I shall be in my boat.”
“Ah, ah!” laughed the gipsy; “it’s as good as a play. Strike me silly, but this is about the cleanest job that mortal man ever did.”
“You must get safely to London, and we are not as yet safely out of the fire.”
“I shall reach London right enough—have no fear about that.”
“Ah, I don’t fear, but still it’s just as well not to shout before you are out of the wood; but you know what to do when you get there?”
“Get rid of the goods as soon as possible.”
“Yes, and there won’t be much difficulty about that if you go to the address I gave you. The name is—”
“Stanbridge,” cried Peace’s companion.
“Right you are. See her, and say you come from me, and she’ll work the oracle. She’s up to every mortal dodge.”
“I’m afraid she’ll be too much for me—I aint much of a hand in dealing with women; they’re a jolly sight too artful for me.”