Not daring to move lest he should be noticed, afraid almost to breathe, Tad listened intently.
"No, is there, Fred?" said the man Bill.
"Yes," replied Fred; "it 'pears as if this lad Poole was a wonderful jealous, spiteful sort of chap, and they're half afeared he may have got rid of the baby somehow, just out of pure wickedness—and then run away."
"Wouldn't I like to catch the young gallows-bird!" remarked Bill so savagely that Tad would have turned and fled that minute, but that he must have given himself away there and then by so doing. "I've got a dear little un of my own," resumed Bill in a softened voice, "only about eight months old too, and I know just how I'd feel to anyone as tried to treat him unjust and unfair."
"Well," remarked the man Fred, "one comfort is that there's little chance of the boy gettin' clear away. He's safe to be nabbed sooner or later; I only wish I'd the doin' of it."
Then the two men went into the shop, and Tad, with a white, drawn face and quaking limbs, moved away from the shop window.
After wandering about among the darkest and poorest streets in the town, he found his way at last to the harbour, where several small coasters and smacks were about to sail, for the wind was fair, and the tide just on the turn.
"Please, sir, don't you want someone to help on board your boat?" asked Tad of the skipper of the largest vessel.
The man turned, took his pipe out of his mouth, and eyed Tad from head to foot.
The boy winced under the keen scrutiny, and repeated his question.