His partner was silent. She knew perfectly well that he was irritable, and would, to use a common phrase, “quarrel with a straw,” so she said no more.
Peace bore up bravely against adverse circumstances, but his rencontre with the Sheffield policeman troubled him much. There was no telling what might follow. If he discovered the burglar’s snug retreat at Peckham the game would be up.
As he reflected on this Peace’s brow grew dark, and his face wore a troubled expression.
He had, however, a great desire to conceal from his two female associates the trouble that for a time so seriously depressed him; he therefore assumed an air of bravado, and discoursed upon matters in a reckless and over-confident tone. Luckily at this juncture a neighbour dropped in; this was a great relief, a little music followed, and finally a game of cards, so by this means he was enabled to get through the remainder of the evening. Before he went to bed, however, he went into the stable and had another look at “Tommy,” who was evidently in great pain; the poor animal could not rest for long in one position. After attending to him Peace retired to rest.
Between twelve and one on the following morning Bandy-legged Bill presented himself at the house in the Evalina-road. Peace was overjoyed to see him.
“Well, Bill, old man, I’m glad you’ve called—have been anxiously watching for you,” cried Peace.
“Oh, indeed; anything up?”
“Tommy’s very bad, cursedly bad. I don’t know what to make of him. I want you to see if you can put him right.”
“Bad—eh? Attacked suddenly?”
“Well, yes, it is a bit sudden. But come into the stable and have a look at him.”