Neither of the pair saw or had any suspicion of the shadow that was creeping through thicker shadows than itself, closer, closer, closer. Neither of them saw, or had any suspicion of, the hand of doom coming nearer, nearer, nearer, to strike terror to their guilty souls.
"Here, take a pull at this, mother," said Jeremiah, handing her a bottle.
"It warms me, it warms me!" murmured Mrs. Pamflett.
"Don't empty the bottle," cried Jeremiah, snatching it from her. "You're a selfish cat!"
"What did the landlord tell you, Jeremiah, about our being hunted down?"
"There's been a man making inquiries about the lodgers, and offering money to find out things. He didn't know who he was, but it looked suspicious, and we were safer out of the house than in it. Take another look at the beauties, mother, before I put them away."
Closer, closer, closer crept the shadow. Closer, closer, closer came the hand of doom.
"Do you think we shall get safe away?" whispered Mrs. Pamflett, as Jeremiah crouched, gloating over the diamonds.
"Do I think it?—I'm sure of it! The police have been too long off the scent for them to get on to it again. All we've got to do is to be cunning, cunning—"
"Jeremiah!" screamed Mrs. Pamflett.