“As for me, sir, I done my duty; and what more could be expected of me? At every stage I tuk a general look round, to see as things were snug and nat’ral; and at Croydon, fust out, I observed as how the invalid were a’ready nodding in a corner, and the other two gents settled to their ‘Mornin’ Postses.’
“Beyond Croydon the cold begun to take the outsides bitter; and the nigger got into a vay of drummin’ with his feet so aggerawacious, that at last George he lost his temper with him and told him to shut up. Well, he shut up that, and started scrapin’ instead; and he went on scrapin’ till the fierce gentleman exploded out of the vinder below fit to bust the springs.
“ ‘Who’s that?’ roars he—‘the blackamoor? Damme!’ he roars, ‘if you aren’t wus nor a badger in more ways than one,’ he roars.
“ ‘All right, boss,’ says the nigger, grinning and lookin’ down. ‘Feet warm at last, boss,’ and he stopped his shufflin’ and begun to sing.
“Now, sir, a sudden thought—I won’t go so far as to call it a suspicion—sent me, next stop, to examine unostentatious-like the neighbourhood of them great boots. But all were sound there, and the man sittin’ well tucked into his wraps. It wasn’t like, of course, that he could a’ kicked the panels of the box in without George knowin’ somethin’ about it. And he didn’t want to neither; for he’d finished his part of the business a’ready. So he just sat and smiled at me as amiable as Billy Vaters.
“Well, we went on without a hitch; and at Cuckfield the three back insides turned out into the snow, and went for a bespoke po’-chaise that was waitin’ for ’em there. But, afore he got in, the fierce gentleman swung round and come blazin’ back to the vinder.
“ ‘My compliments, sir,’ says he, ‘at parting; and, if it should come to the vorst,’ he says, ‘I’d advise you to lay your friend pretty far under to his last sleep,’ he says, ‘or his snores’ll wake the dead.’
“ ‘Hush,’ says the fat ’un. ‘It’s the drowndin’ spirit in him comin’ up to blow like a vale.’
“ ‘Is it?’ says the fierce gentleman. ‘Then it’s my opinion that the outsides ought to be warned afore he gives his last heave——’ and he went off snortin’ like a tornader.
“The fat man shook his head when he were gone. His mildness, having sich a figger, was amazing. He sat with his arm and shoulder for a bolster to old paralysis, who was certainly going on in style.