He wanted to think, but above all he wanted food and drink.
As a precaution against the attentions of the police he began to whistle loudly. None, he argued, would suspect of being a burglar a man who was whistling at the stretch of his power. Once he stopped dead and laughed.
"Joe Bindle," he remarked, "you been burglin', and you're mesmerised, an' you're goin' to give yerself up to the police, an' don't you forget it, as it might 'urt the Professor's feelings."
He slapped his knee, laughed again, recommenced whistling, and continued on his way.
Occasionally his hand would wander in the direction of the left-hand pocket of his coat, when, feeling the Professor's watch and chain and the note to the police, his face would irradiate joy.
He must think, however. He could not continue walking and whistling for ever. He must think; and with Bindle to think it was necessary that he should remain still. This he dare not do for fear of arousing suspicion.
Once in turning a corner suddenly he almost collided with a policeman.
"Tryin' to wake the whole place?" enquired the policeman. "Where are you goin', makin' such a row about it?"
"To 'ell, same as you, ole sport," responded Bindle cheerfully. "Goo'-night! See yer later!"
The policeman grumbled something and passed on. Presently Bindle saw the lights of a coffee-stall, towards which he walked briskly. Over two sausages and some bacon he reviewed the situation, chaffed the proprietor, and treated to a meal the bedraggled remnants of what had once been a woman, whom he found hovering hungrily about the stall.