Felix obeyed. A fire blazed in the night-watchman's cabin, and by his instructions he seated Rona on a chair in front of it. She was scared and nervous, hardly able to control herself, what with bodily pain and mental apprehension.
"You tyke my tip," said Comrade Dawkes, after a prolonged scrutiny. "Tyke and get shut of 'er to-night, and now. Send her to the orsepital, they'll look after 'er there. Go an' saddle yourself with a girl, there'll never be no end to it."
Rona did not speak, but her "lost dog" eyes besought Felix.
"If she's no better in the morning, I must," he said, reluctantly. "But, you see, if she goes to the hospital, ten to one those ruffians will find her; and he's her uncle—they would have to let him take her away. There's nobody but me to speak for her, and nobody will believe me on oath in a police-court. The end of it would be my being jugged again, for abduction, and she handed over to ruin."
Dawkes nodded slowly. He saw the desperate nature of their plight. Once caught, they would have no chance at all.
"If that's the way of it, and you go to be off, my advice to you both is—be off, and look sharp about it," said he. "Don't hang around here all night."
Felix made a gesture of despair. "But she can't travel, and we have no money," he said, resentfully. "We'd better chuck ourselves in there, and have done with it."
"She can travel," said Dawkes.
"How, then?"
"In a canal boat."