"I do; the carriage will be here in a minute or two. And in the meantime we must think upon getting you dressed."
This question of clothing promised to be a difficult one, as Dudley's own things were saturated with water. Carrie sprang to her feet.
"I'll see about that," said she, briskly, as she disappeared from the room.
Max, alarmed at being left alone with Dudley, in whose eyes he could see the dawn of struggling recollection, babbled on about Christmas, his mother, his sisters, anything he could think of till Carrie came back again, with her arms full of men's clothes—a motley assortment.
Max looked at them doubtfully. They were all new—suspiciously new.
Carrie laughed, with a little blush.
"Better not ask any questions about them," said she. "Take your choice, and be quick."
With his lips Max formed the word: "Stolen?" but Carrie declined to answer. As there was no help for it, Max dressed his friend in such of the clothes as were a passable fit for him, while Carrie went out to watch for the expected carriage. When she returned to the kitchen, Dudley was ready for the journey. He was lying back in a chair, looking very white and haggard and exhausted, casting about him glances full of expectancy and terror, and starting at every sound.
But he asked no more questions, and he made no mention of Mrs. Higgs.
Bob had fulfilled his errand well. Outside the wharf they found a comfortable landau, with two good horses, hired from the nearest livery-stable.