“Dear, dear, how wild it has got all of a sudden! W’y, it must be ill—p’r’aps mad. It’s well you put that muzzle on, Tot.”
While he spoke Abel Bones thrust the dog into one of the capacious pockets of his coat.
“Now, Tot,” he said, somewhat sternly, “I durstn’t let this dog go. It wants a doctor very bad. You go back to the ’ouse and tell ’em a man said so. You needn’t say what man; call me a philanthropist if you choose, an’ tell ’em I’ll send it back w’en it recovers. But you needn’t tell ’em anything until you’re axed, you know—it might get me into trouble, d’ee see, an’ say to Miss Stivergill it wasn’t your father as took the dog, but another man.”
He leaped over a low part of the hedge and was gone, leaving poor Tottie in a state of bewildered anxiety on the other side.
Under the influence of fear Tottie told the lies her father had bid her tell, and thereafter dwelt at Rosebud Cottage with an evil conscience and a heavy heart.
Having gained the high-road, Mr Bones sauntered easily to the railway station, took a third-class ticket for Charing Cross, and in due time found himself passing along the Strand. In the course of that journey poor little Floppart lay on its back in the bottom of its captor’s pocket, with a finger and thumb gently pressing her windpipe. Whenever she became restive, the finger and thumb tightened, and this with such unvarying regularity that she soon came to understand the advantage of lying still. She did, however, make sundry attempts to escape—once very violently, when the guard was opening the carriage-door to let Mr Bones enter, and again almost as violently at Charing Cross, when Mr Bones got out. Indeed, the dog had well-nigh got off, and was restored to its former place and position with difficulty.
Turning into Chancery Lane, and crossing over to Holborn, Abel Bones continued his way to Newgate, where, appropriately enough, he stopped and gazed grimly up at the massive walls.
“Don’t be in a ’urry,” said a very small boy, with dirt and daring in equal proportions on his face, “it’ll wait for you.”
Mr Bones made a tremendous demonstration of an intention to rush at the boy, who precipitately fled, and the former passed quietly on.
At St. Martin’s-le-Grand he paused again.