The comrade, however, not being aware of Ned’s incarceration, and believing, no doubt, that there was honour among thieves, was true to his day and hour. He had been engaged down somewhere in the country on business, and came up by express train for this particular job; hence his ignorance as to his partner’s fate.
But this burglar was not a man to be easily balked in his purpose.
“Ned must be ill, or got a haccident o’ some sort,” he said to a very little but sharp boy who was to assist in the job. “Howsever, you an’ me’ll go at it alone, Sniveller.”
“Wery good, Bunky,” replied Sniveller, “’ow is it to be? By the winder, through the door, down the chimbly, up the spout—or wot?”
“The larder windy, my boy.”
“Sorry for that,” said Sniveller.
“Why?”
“’Cause it is so ’ard to go past the nice things an’ smell ’em all without darin’ to touch ’em till I lets you in. Couldn’t you let me ’ave a feed first?”
“Unpossible,” said the burglar.
“Wery good,” returned the boy, with a sigh of resignation.