Now was his time to have a look at the bag. He reached down and lifted it to his knees, and again its weight surprised him. 'It will be locked, no doubt,' said the doctor to himself, as he drew the off gig-lamp from its socket to light his inspection.
But no: the bag was fastened by an ordinary spring-catch, and, when he pressed this, fell open easily. He listened for a second or two, with a glance over his shoulder into the darkness behind. But nothing could be heard—nothing but the night-call of a curlew somewhere on the moor, far to his right. Holding the lamp a little higher in his left, he thrust his right hand into the bag, groped, and drew out—
First of all, a pistol, and whether loaded or not he deferred for the moment to examine.
Next, four small but heavy canvas bags, each tied about the neck with a leathern thong. By the weight and the look, and also by the sound of them when shaken, they contained money.
Next, a pair of rubber-soled Blucher boots.
Next, a small square case, which he opened and found to contain a pocket-compass.
Next, a pair of night-glasses.
Next, a neck-comforter of knitted gray worsted
And, lastly, a folded map.
While he made this inventory, Doctor Unonius kept Dapple at a standstill; for thus only was he secure of hearing the smallest sound on the road behind. But now he judged it prudent to put another half a mile at least between him and pursuit, and so, replacing the lamp and hastily repacking the bag—with all but the pistol, which he kept handy on the seat beside him, and the map, which he thrust into the breast of his greatcoat—he urged the old horse into a fresh trot, nor pulled up again until he came to the glimmering white gate of Landeweddy Farm.