"Thank you, Miss Phœbe."
They had taken the Croydon road to London Bridge, and in half an hour, when they reached a quiet street, in which no soul but themselves was to be seen, Tom lifted Phœbe from the horse.
"Hold on to me, Miss Phœbe, and turn your face a bit."
She did so. With a branch which he had plucked from the hedge and had used as a whip Tom struck the horse a smart blow. Away it galloped with an empty saddle on its back, and in three moments was lost to his sight.
"Now, Miss Phœbe, if we can only find a cab!"
Angel Fortune was on their side. They had taken scarcely a dozen steps when a four-wheeler turned the corner of the street. The bargain was soon made, and Phœbe and Tom, safely ensconced in the cab, were on their way to Camden Town.
"My dear," said Aunt Leth, shaking her husband, "the street-door bell has rung; and, hark! do you hear the loud knocking? What can have happened?"
He was out of bed in a moment and gliding down the stairs, and Aunt Leth quickly drew on a dressing-gown, and hastened after him.
"Open the door," cried Tom Barley, outside. "It's all right! There's nothing to be frightened at."
Uncle Leth threw open the door.