“He won’t get you here, I promise you,” said Mr. Ludgrove reassuringly. He mixed a strong whiskey and water, and placed it in the trembling hand of his guest. “You drink this while I go into the shop and keep an eye open for your son.”
Mr. Ludgrove had not been at his post for many minutes before Ted came swinging along the opposite pavement. He stopped at the sound of the herbalist’s voice, and crossed the road towards him. In a few whispered words Mr. Ludgrove acquainted him with what had happened.
Ted said nothing, but jerked his elbow upwards and winked suggestively.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Mr. Ludgrove. “But you had better come in and talk to him.”
The two entered the back room together, and Mr. Copperdock looked up anxiously as they came in.
“Ah, Ted, my boy, I’m glad to see you,” he said dolefully. “The black sailor’s on my track, and he’ll get me, for sure.”
“Nonsense, Dad,” replied Ted heartily. “Somebody put that counter on your bed for a joke; one of your pals at the Cambridge Arms, I’ll be bound. You come along home with me, and we’ll soon find out who it was.”
But Mr. Copperdock shook his head. “I wouldn’t go into that house again not to-night, no, not if you was to pay me,” he replied firmly. “I’d sooner go and spend the night at the police station.”
“You needn’t do that,” said Mr. Ludgrove. “You can spend the night here on my bed upstairs. I have no objection to sleeping on the chair.”
“I daren’t be left alone,” lamented Mr. Copperdock. “Anybody might have seen me cross the road and come in here. Do you think Inspector Whyland would send a couple of coppers along if Ted was to ring him up? I’d feel a lot safer if they was about.”