“This comes of gettin’ into bad company, Phil,” said the Captain drearily, when he had recovered his breath. “A ’at—bought off a Jew gentleman, with nice manners, only last week; a brush and comb—the brush a bit bald, and the comb wantin’ a noo set of teeth; to say nothink of a night garment, ’emmed by the Missis, and marked with a anchor on the boosum—all lost at ‘The Three Watermen.’”
“I’m very sorry,” replied Philip, “but I think we got off pretty cheaply as it was. But I don’t think we had better be seen in company; those fellows only saw you for a moment, and will scarcely be likely to recognise you, should you meet them.”
“I don’t want to meet ’em,” said the Captain. “I saw that Shady chap in the bar, and thought ’e was on the lookout for me again—so I chivvied of ’im upstairs.”
They parted for the time, after Philip Chater had impressed his address upon the Captain’s mind, with many injunctions to talk about him as little as possible. Philip, after walking for nearly an hour, found a quiet hotel, and gladly got to bed. At the last moment, before his eyes closed, he remembered the two packets which had been given him, together with the piece of paper the sandy-haired man had tossed to him, and which latter he had thrust into his pocket. He jumped out of bed, re-lit the gas, and took them from the pockets of his clothing.
The first packet, when he broke it, he found contained bank-notes—for small and large amounts—to the total of three thousand five hundred pounds; the second packet held the same amount. Dropping these hastily, he caught up the scrap of paper, and hurriedly unfolded it.
It was a roughly-drawn plan of certain roads and paths, together with two little squares—one at the top right-hand corner, and one at the top left-hand corner. The square at the right was marked—“Dandy’s house—easily seen from village street.” The other square was marked—“The Cottage.”
And the address pencilled upon it was—“The Cottage, Bamberton.”
CHAPTER VII
MASTER AND SERVANT
For a long time, Philip Chater sat staring, in a stupefied fashion, at the packets of bank-notes, and at the paper he held in his hand. He was at first utterly at a loss to understand why such a sum of money should have been paid into his hands, together with a similar sum for the mysterious man, his cousin, known as the Count. Gradually, however, a light began to dawn upon him; remembering the talk about diamonds, and about the young girl who was to receive no hurt, the horrible business began to piece itself together in his mind, bit by bit. Once again he seemed to be looking into the evil faces, in that upstairs room in the low public-house at Woolwich; saw that the giving of the packets—one for himself, and one for his cousin—had been but a dividing of the spoils of some successful robbery. More than that, the paper seemed to point to the fact that another robbery was planned, at the house of Madge Barnshaw.
Everything seemed to point to this. The affair had evidently been arranged by this same mysterious man Ogledon; and that he was a frequent visitor to Bamberton was obvious, from the mention made of him by Mrs. Dolman, the housekeeper, on the day of Philip’s first journey to Chater Hall. Again, the mention of the young girl who was not to be hurt—of the fact that they only expected to have to deal with women—all pointed to robbery, to which possible violence was attached.