“I say, I know: you’re going on to London.”
“Am I? you don’t know,” said Sam hurriedly. “But I say, are you going home to bed now?”
“No,” said Pete, with a chuckle; “I’m going back to my roost in the wood. Good-night, matey.”
“Good-night,” said Sam; and he started off at a rapid rate along the hard road, feeling the papers tightly buttoned up in his pocket, where they soon grew hot, and as if they were going to burn his chest. “Oh, what a terrible walk,” he muttered; “and that fellow will know I’m making for London. Don’t matter,” he said directly after; “he won’t tell tales, and if he comes up, ferrets us out, and wants more money, the gov’nor ’ll have to pay.”
Pete went back to his sandy hole, and in an hour was fast asleep, while Sam was plodding steadily on toward the great city, growing more and more weary as the hours passed, and longing to lie down and sleep, but dreading to do this for fear of some policeman or tramp coming upon him, when he felt that the result would be the same—the papers he had gone through so much to obtain would be found, and perhaps pass entirely from his hands.
Chapter Forty Five.
Sam Brandon was more asleep than awake when he made his way into Westhall Station, and took a ticket for town. He had taken nearly an hour to get over the last mile, after struggling hard during the first part of the night to get as far as possible away from Furzebrough, haunted as he was by the belief that the theft would be discovered before many minutes had passed, and that he would be pitched upon as the criminal. For though the struggle had been in the dark, and he had not spoken a word, he felt sure that Tom must have known him, and that some one would start very soon in pursuit. Hence, with his brain full of handcuffs, prison cells, magistrates, and other accessories of the law, he had toiled on through the night until utterly exhausted.
The early morning train soon came gliding into the station, and Sam took his place, trying in vain to look careless and indifferent, and as if he were occupied over his ordinary affairs; but it could not be done. He looked dusty as to his boots and trousers; there was a bloodshot appearance in his eyes; his cheeks were hollow, and his lips feverish and cracked.