He lifted it out of the bag and coolly deposited it in his pocket.
“He lifted the dispatch out of the bag and coolly deposited it in his pocket.”—[Page 229.]
“No, no; that’s not fair,” she cried in terror.
“Perfectly fair,” he replied; “I’ll post it myself at Pitstow in time to catch the same mail.”
“You cannot; it is impossible.”
“It is quite possible. Don’t keep me now, woman; here’s your thirty pounds.” He laid an envelope on the counter, and vanished before she could utter a word.
Going as quickly as ever his feet could carry him, Jacob approached the nearest inn, ordered a trap and the fleetest horse in the livery stables. He made a very plausible explanation for his hurry.
“You know all about the burglary up at the Heights,” he said—“well, I’m off to see the police at Pitstow; my master told me to telegraph, but it occurred to me it would be best to drive over and bring one or two of them back with me. Now, do be quick. Half a crown to the man who brings round the trap first.”
“It shall be at your service in three minutes at the farthest,” said the burly host of the little village inn. He ran off to the stables, and several men began to loaf round and eagerly question Jacob Short.