"Then you will be in Rippleton jail before to-morrow night; that's all."
"What for?"
"No matter; if you come to the meeting to-night, all right; if you don't—Rippleton jail;" and Tim hastened away, heedless of Charles's calls.
Rippleton jail! What could he mean by that? He felt guilty, and his heart beat so violently that he could hardly breathe. The stolen purse, which still lay buried on Center Island, seemed to haunt him, and with that he immediately connected Tim's dreadful threat. His confederate meant to charge him with stealing it. It was all very plain, and his conscience told him how justly he would be accused. He could not go to jail innocent, as Tony had, and be borne home in triumph from the court by the boat club.
His frame trembled with emotion; and he knew not what to do. There was a right way and wrong way for him to proceed—the path of duty and the path of error.
"I will go to Captain Sedley and tell him all about it," said he to himself, "and tell him that they mean to steal the boats."
This was the path of duty; but he had not the courage to walk in it. He would be despised even then, and Tim Bunker would certainly be revenged if he did.
"I will go;" and he actually walked a short distance towards Captain Sedley's house; but his courage failed him; he dared not do right, and that evening he joined the "Rovers."
Poor Charles!