"You should have waited till I could help you," Gray said after a moment. "I hardly understand how you can have got so far. Your foot must be much better."
He was still looking down on Lumley with a wondering look He saw that he had fastened the wallet of money round his shoulders, and was half lying upon it with one arm tightly grasping it.
"P'r'aps you think I was tryin' to clear off?" said Lumley sulkily; "what would be the good of tryin' that. You know the way now, don't you? You'd be pretty soon on my tracks. And, besides, I'm not much better than a log; I can't do without you yet, partner."
Suspicion after suspicion flashed through Gray's mind, only to be dismissed at once.
It was impossible, he said to himself, that Lumley could be meditating foul play against the man who had saved his life. And, besides, it was as he said, he could not do without him.
Lumley read his thoughts correctly enough.
"You needn't stare at a cove like that," he said in the same sulky tone. "You were so mighty anxious to get off I thought I'd try what I could do. And we can start at sunrise, mate. You'll not have much longer to spend in company with me; you'll be glad of that, won't you? I'm not good enough for the likes of you."
"Couldn't we start before sunrise?" Gray said quietly; "it's almost as light as day now."
"It'll be dark as pitch in another hour when the moon goes down. And I want a rest," returned Lumley; "I'm not goin' to stir from here till sunrise for anybody, Mr. Gentleman Gray."
His sulky rage reassured Gray more than smooth language would have done, as Lumley perhaps had guessed.