“You can believe me or not, as you like, but I always was your friend, and always will be, come what may. Now, look here; we are safe to get the credit of this. If you didn’t fell me, some one else did. Van Heldre, I suppose; and now some one must have knocked him down. Of course you’ll say it wasn’t you.”
“No,” said Harry coldly. “I shall not say it. I was by the safe, and he caught hold of me. In my horror I hit at him. I wish he had struck me dead instead.”
“Don’t talk like a fool. Now look here; the game’s up and the world’s wide. We can start at once, and get to Saint Dree’s station in time to catch the up train; let’s go, and start afresh somewhere. You and I are safe to get on. Come.”
Harry made no reply.
“I’ve packed up my bag, and I’m ready. Get a few things together, and let’s go at once.”
“Go—with you?”
“Yes. Look sharp. Every minute now is worth an hour.”
Go with Pradelle! the man who had been his evil genius ever since they had first met. A feeling of revulsion, such as he had never felt before, came over Harry Vine, and with a voice full of repressed rage he cried:—
“I’d sooner give myself up to the police.”
“Don’t be a fool. I tell you to come at once. It’s now half-past two. Plenty of time.”