“It wor very thoughtful on you,” Stalker answered with pleasant sarcasm; “an’ as you was to ha’ left it wi’ me I may as well take it. By gen, it’s no light weight! Happen you’ll take charge on’t, Mr. Inman, while we get to t’ village, and leave me my two hands free?”
Inman stepped forward and Jagger observed him for the first time.
“So you’re there, are you?” he remarked. “I thought by this time you’d have put five miles o’ moor between you and Mawm. You know who hid t’ bag on t’ Scar side, choose who you got to steal it.”
“You are quite right,” he answered with no emotion of any kind. “I’ve known all along both who stole it and who hid it; but the trouble was I didn’t know where until I followed you. Stalker knows that I knew.”
“That’s all right, sir,” said the constable, “and we needn’t stop here i’ t’ lane arguing about it. We’ll be stepping forrad, and t’ least said’ll be t’ soonest mended, for it’s my duty to warn you ’at aught you say may be used in evidence again’ you.”
Jagger made no reply, and walked between his two captors thinking his own thoughts. At intervals his companions exchanged a brief sentence, but for the most part the journey was continued in silence, so that when the outskirts of the village had been reached the sound of footsteps in the rear was clearly heard.
The constable gripped Jagger’s sleeve. “If it’s a rescue you’re thinking on,” he said, “I shall have to put cuffs o’ your wrists.”
Jagger laughed, and his indifference surprised the constable and disturbed Inman.
Whoever was approaching was making good progress, and in a few moments a firm voice rang out the question:
“Is that you, Stalker, in front?”