"Nothing," was the answer.
"Won't you stay and take a drop of something warm, Mr. Rainford?" asked Betsy Bunce, in her most winning way.
"No, thank 'ee," returned Tom. "I must be off. Good night."
And the highwayman took his departure.
When the front-door was closed behind him, Old Death said, with a chuckle, "Well, he'll be out of the way to-morrow night; and we shall get hold of the boy. But I shall now just step up to Castle Street, and see what's going on at twenty-three."
"Shall you come back here to-night?" asked Mrs. Bunce.
"I can't say. It's now nine o'clock; and if I do, it will be by ten. Jacob, my boy, you needn't wait unless you like."
Old Death then left the house.
[2]. Snammer—a thief.