“The dummy’s faithful to him as a hound,” muttered Gregory, seeing the Indian depart; “same as my ole clo’ pals war to me. Sir Henry ha’ did ’im a sarvice some time, I dar say—as he does everybody whenever he can. Now, what’s to be done for him?”
The footpad stood for some minutes in a reflecting attitude.
“They’ve ta’en him up to Bulstrode, whar they’re quartered. No doubt about that. They won’t keep him there a longish time. They mean no common prison to hold him. Newgate, or the Tower—one o’ the two are sure o’ bein’ his lodging afore the morrow night?
“What chance o’ a rescue on the road? Ne’er a much, I fear. Dang seize it! my dummies wouldn’t do for that sort o’ thing. There’ll go a whole troop o’ these kewreseers along wi’ him? No doubt o’t.
“I wonder if they’ll take him up the day? Maybe they woant; an’ if they doant, theer mout be a chance i’ the night. I wish I had some one to help me with a good think.
“Hanged if I kin believe ole Dancey to be a treetur. ’Tan’t possible, after what he ha’ sayed to me, no later than yesterday mornin’. No, ’tan’t possible. He ha’ know’d nothin’ ’bout this bizness; and it be all the doin’s o’ that devil’s get o’ a Walford.
“I’ll go see Dancey. I’ll find out whether he had a hand in’t or no. If no, then he’ll do summat to help me; and maybe that daughter o’ his’ll do summat? Sartin she will. If my eyes don’t cheat me, the girl’s mad after Sir Henry—mad as a she hare in March time.
“I’ll go to Dancey’s this very minnit. I’ve another errand in that same direction; an’ I kin kill two birds with the one stooan. Cuss the whey-faced loon Walford! If I doant larrup him, as long as I can find a hard spot inside his ugly skin. Augh!”
And winding up his soliloquy with the aspirated exclamation, he re-entered the house—as if to prepare for his proposed visit to the cottage of Dancey.
Although he had promised himself to start on the instant, it was a good half hour before he took his departure from Stone Dean. The larder lay temptingly open—as also the wine-cellar; and although the captors of Henry Holtspur had foraged freely upon both, the short time allowed them for ransacking had prevented their making a clear sweep of the shelves. The ex-footpad, therefore, found sufficient food left to furnish him with a tolerable breakfast, and wine enough to wash it down.