The policeman grew more and more interested as it went on. Finally he exclaimed: “You get the door open, sir, and I’ll fetch the truck through. Time’s getting along.”
He hurried out of the yard and returned carrying the truck on his shoulders. Then he stripped off the felt with his knife and ran it into the shed, beside the old broken-down barrow that had done service for so many years.
Mr. Verney soon had the padlock back in its place as if nothing had happened, and after carefully gathering up the felt they hurried off, in order to get home before Thomas Barnes should call with the medicine that he had been sent to buy.
“Let me carry the bag, sir,” the policeman said.
“What, full of burgling tools!” said Mr. Verney.
“Mum’s the word,” the policeman replied, “mum’s the word.”
At the forge cottage he wished them good-night.
“Then you don’t want us in court to-morrow?” Mr. Verney asked.
“Mum’s the word,” was all that Dobbs replied, with a chuckle.
Thomas Barnes’ train being late, Mary did not get to bed until after twelve that night. She laid her head on the pillow with particular satisfaction, for the last and most difficult part of the distribution of Uncle Herbert’s money was over.