Todd could almost have hugged the man for the sentiment he uttered; and how he longed to echo those two words, "pull away;" but he was afraid to do so, lest, by any seemingly undue anxiety just then for speed upon his part, he should provoke the idea that the police-boat was as interesting to him as it really was.
Poor, wretched, guilty Todd surely suffered a hundred times the pangs of death during his progress down the river; and now he sat in the stern of the boat, looking as pale as death itself.
"You don't seem very well," said one of the men.
"Oh, yes—yes, I am quite well, I thank you."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it; for you look just as if you had been buried a month, and then dug up again."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Todd,—what a hideous attempt at a laugh it was!—"that is very good."
"Oh, lor! do you laugh that way when you are at home? 'cos if you do, I should expect the roof to tumble in with fright, I should."
"How funny you are," said Todd. "Pull away."
He did venture to say, "pull away!" and the men did pull with right good-will, so that the landing-place, and the long police-boat that was at it, looked just like two specks by the river-side; and, indeed it would have been a long pull and a strong one to catch Todd's wherry.
The murderer breathed a little more freely.