The Captain did so, and the man replied promptly that they were heading towards Bamberton.
“Just where I want to go,” whispered Philip to the Captain. “Now—I don’t want to get you into trouble, old friend—as you would most assuredly, if I were found in your company. Therefore, you can drop me here by the roadside, and go on without me.”
“I’m damned if I do!” said the Captain, sturdily.
“But you must,” replied Philip. “If I remain here, I shall certainly be taken, quite apart from getting you into difficulties. On the other hand, if I drop out in the darkness, I can lie close under a hedge until they’ve gone by. And you, for your own satisfaction, can give them a false direction.”
This last point appeared to settle the matter with the Captain; Philip left him chuckling hugely to himself. Just as the caravan was beginning to move on again and while Philip lay crouched behind a hedge, the gig dashed up, and drew rein within hearing of him.
“Wot!” exclaimed the Captain, in a voice of apparent indignation, the moment he heard that a prisoner was missing, and was believed to have taken the road to Bamberton—“You don’t mean a tall clean-shaven dark chap, without a ’at?” On being assured that that was a correct description of the fugitive, the Captain became more indignant than ever.
“If you goes along that ’ere road to the left, about a ’underd yards further back—you’ll nab ’im—sure as eggs,” he exclaimed. “’E was runnin’ like a good ’un—tol’ me ’e was a doin’ it for a wager. W’en you ketches ’im, guv’nor—’it ’im one fer me—will yer—for a tryin’ ter deceive.”
“I should like to have a look inside your caravan,” said the man, quietly, jumping down from the gig.
“W’y—certainly,” responded the Captain. “It’s a nice roomy place, pervided yer don’t git yer feet in the fireplace. I’d ’ave ’ad it painted special, if I’d knowed you was comin’.”
The man looked in at the open door of the vehicle; looked sharply at the Captain, and at the driver; and climbed into the gig again.