"This way," said Bill, leading him to a back entrance, opening on a lane leading to Ruthven Street.
"Here's another for you, Bill, and if you look after my things I'll give you a couple more when I come back," said Wyck, handing him another sovereign.
"Right you are, boss!" and as he closed the door upon him, a grin spread over his face, and he said to himself:
"Two yellow boys for old Joe's swag, eh? Wonder what old Joe'll say when he comes to look for 'em?"
Wyck reached the station safely, and asking how far the train went, was told "Roma."
"First, Rome," said he to the porter, without thinking.
"Roma, you mean, boss. Besides there ain't no first class on a goods train," said the porter, with a grin.
"You know what I mean," replied Wyck, annoyed.
"All right, here you are, boss," he answered, handing him a ticket, and noting his white hands and the chink of gold in his pocket.
"Hullo, mate! how far are you going?" asked a genuine tramp, as he joined him in the van.