He was, however, at this time not at all aware of the magnitude of Peace’s depredations or the grave charge which hung over his head; neither did he know that one of the detectives hailed from Sheffield.
Peace, in dealing with the Jew, had taken the precaution never to give his right name. The receiver of stolen goods, throughout his acquaintance with him, had been under the impression that he was a well-known London thief.
Bandy-legged Bill, who was waiting at the corner of the street for Peace, did not know very well how to act. He saw the detectives enter the Jew’s shop. He was seriously alarmed and trembled for his friend, but he had at the same time unlimited faith in the resources of “Charlie,” as he termed him.
Still he did not like to abandon him, and for a brief space of time he debated with himself as to what had best be done under the circumstances.
He was half inclined to alight, enter the shop, and see how matters stood; but upon second thoughts he came to the conclusion that it would be the worst possible policy for him to leave the trap, which contained so much stolen property.
After cogitating for some time he deemed it advisable to drive off without running risk of detection.
And so, while the coast was clear, off he drove.
Bill was very reluctant to abandon the field, but prudence dictated this course of action, and he argued that he could be of no service to Peace under any circumstances—so he drove off far away from the scene of action.
And for his own as well as for his friend’s safety it was as well, perhaps, that he did so.
But the detectives, after they left the Jew’s house, did not seem disposed to leave the neighbourhood. The Sheffield man was under the impression that he had seen some one in the back parlour of Simmonds’s establishment the features of whom were like those of Charles Peace.