"Very well, then, come along; if you do, then you're the sort for me. I did you a bad turn this morning, now I'll do you a good one to make up."
Chapter XVI
[THE CAPTAIN'S ROOM]
Trusting himself to his companion's guidance, Bertie went where the other chose to take him. Under ordinary circumstances he would have thought a good many times before he would have allowed himself to be led blindfold he knew not where; but tired, wet, cold, and so hungry, he resigned himself to circumstances. He could not possibly find himself in a worse position than his present one; at least, so it seemed to him. Certainly it had not been part of his plans to be a companion of thieves; but then nothing which had befallen him had been part of his plans.
His companion led him to a court within a stone's throw of Drury Lane, and was just about to turn the corner when something caught his eyes. He walked straight on, taking Bertie with him.
"There's a peeler. I don't want him to see me go down there; it isn't quite what I care for to let them gentry have their eyes upon my family mansion."
What he meant Bertie failed to understand. He saw no one in sight to cause alarm, and indeed it almost seemed that his companion had eyes behind his head, for, as quickly appeared, the policeman was at their back some considerable distance off. They reached the entry to another court, and down this his companion strutted, as though he was anxious all the world should have their eyes upon him. But no sooner was he in than he slunk into a doorway.
"Come in here, my bonny boy, and let the gentleman go past. He's taking a little walk for the benefit of his health, poor chap. They're always taking walks, them peelers are. I wish they'd stop at home; I really do."
A measured tramp, tramp, tramp approached. The thief put his hand over Bertie's mouth as though he were fearful he would make a sound. The policeman reached the entry, paused a moment as if to peer into its depths, and then passed on. When he had gone the thief spoke again.
"Good-bye, dear boy; sorry to lose you, but the best of friends must part. Come along, my rib-stone pippin; you and me'll go home to tea."