“I should say it was thieves, sir,” said Pruffle at length.
“You’re a fool, and may go down-stairs,” said the scientific gentleman.
“Thank you, sir,” said Pruffle. And down he went.
But the scientific gentleman could not rest under the idea of the ingenious treatise he had projected being lost to the world, which must inevitably be the case if the speculation of the ingenious Mr. Pruffle were not stifled in its birth. He put on his hat and walked quickly down the garden, determined to investigate the matter to the very bottom.
Now, shortly before the scientific gentleman walked out into the garden, Mr. Pickwick had run down the lane as fast as he could, to convey a false alarm that somebody was coming that way; occasionally drawing back the slide of the dark lantern to keep himself from the ditch. The alarm was no sooner given, than Mr. Winkle scrambled back over the wall, and Arabella ran into the house; the garden-gate was shut, and the three adventurers were making the best of their way down the lane, when they were startled by the scientific old gentleman unlocking his garden-gate.
“Hold hard,” whispered Sam, who was, of course, the first of the party. “Show a light for just vun second, sir.”
Mr. Pickwick did as he was desired, and Sam, seeing a man’s head peeping out very cautiously within half a yard of his own, gave it a gentle tap with his clenched fist, which knocked it, with a hollow sound, against the gate. Having performed this feat with great suddenness and dexterity, Mr. Weller caught Mr. Pickwick up on his back, and followed Mr. Winkle down the lane at a pace which, considering the burden he carried, was perfectly astonishing.
“Have you got your vind back agin, sir,” inquired Sam, when they had reached the end.
“Quite. Quite, now,” replied Mr. Pickwick.
“Then come along, sir,” said Sam, setting his master on his feet again. “Come between us, sir. Not half a mile to run. Think you’re vinnin’ a cup, sir. Now for it.”