“It does not matter what ‘fence’ we take them to. All I want to do to-night is to get the goods ready for starting.”
Peace lighted a hand-lamp and bade his companion follow him. Then the two conveyed a number of articles to the stables, and when there they packed them up in as small a compass as possible in the hampers to which Peace had made allusion.
The greater portion of the property was safely stowed away in the hampers, which were afterwards tied down with long cord.
All this had been done in an incredibly short space of time. Then the burglar and his horsey companion sat down on the corded baskets and discussed the intended procedings of the morrow.
“Poor Tommy, my beautiful little pet, is gone!” said Peace, with something like sorrow in his tone. “I shan’t get another like him in a hurry, Bill. But it’s of no use grieving—it was to be, I suppose, and so there’s an end of that matter.”
“Ah, poor old Tommy! but lord bless you, nothing in the world would have saved him. But it ain’t of no use dwelling on that now. These precious hampers have to be got, somehow or other, to Whitechapel—that’s quite certain. There won’t be much difficulty about that ere. I’ll bring a trap round we can shove ’em in, and the rest is an easy matter. I shall be glad when we’ve got shut of them.”
“So shall I. Are you going to borrow a trap, then?”
“Ah, yes, Joe Starker will lend me one in a minute. There ain’t no manner of trouble about that. Say the word, Charlie. Tell me what time I am to be here, and it shall be done like a shot, and no flies.”
“Eight o’clock to-morrow evening will do very well, I think.”
“All right, guv’nor, eight o’clock let it be, then.”