“Never vos a truer vord spoke,” responded Bill, with a look of intense admiration at his companion.
“Well, if so be as this fellow has but what he said, two hundred, we takes one, and leaves him one.”
“That’s the way.”
“But if so be as he has more we takes it all in course; and I’ll wager my blessed nose off my face that he has a precious sight more.”
Bill nodded knowingly.
“Well then,” continued Mr. Moggs, “in either case we gets the shay-cart, and takes him somewhere far enough off.”
Bill nodded again, and then taking from his pocket a large clasped knife, he knelt down by the side of Gray, and with a neatness and dexterity that were evidently the result of practice, he ripped open every one of his pockets, and in a few brief moments Jacob Gray was despoiled of every guinea of that sum of money he had gone through so much pain, suffering, and crime, to procure.
The sum when collected from all his pockets, was in notes and gold so much larger than the thieves had any idea of finding, that when they had it fairly lying before them on the table, they looked at each other for some moments in mute surprise.
“Bill,” cried the other, “this is a regular set up, it is. I’m blowed if we maydent and must retire from business with all this.”
“Don’t be proud,” said Bill. “You always was ambitious. Take it easy, can’t you. This card will be uncommonly useful. How many a poor fellow has been scragged at the tree for want of a few pounds over the blood money, to give a officer as had a warrant agin him. Tom, what I propose is, for us to take a cool hundred or so only, out o’ all this here, and lay the remainder by for bad times.”