Flower hesitated. “Five pounds for certain,” he said, hastily, “and more if you’re put to much trouble. Run down and stop your wife’s mouth quietly.”
“Don’t order me about,” said the old man, slowly; “I ain’t said I’ll do it yet.”
“They’re coming now,” said Flower, impatiently; “mind, if they catch me you lose your five pounds.”
“All right,” said the other. “I’m doing it for the five pounds, mind, not for you,” added this excellent man.
He went grunting and groaning down the narrow stairs, and the skipper, closing the door, went and crouched down by the open casement. A few indistinct words were borne in on the still air, and voices came gradually closer, until footsteps, which had been deadened by the grass, became suddenly audible on the stones outside the cottage.
Flower held his breath with anxiety; then he smiled softly and pleasantly as he listened to the terms in which his somewhat difficult host was addressed.
“Now, gaffer,” said the man of the gig, roughly.
“Wake up, grandpa,” said Dick Tipping; “have you seen a man go by here?—blue serge suit, moustache, face and head knocked about?”
“No, I ain’t seen ’im,” was the reply. “What’s he done?”
Tipping told him briefly. “We’ll have him,” he said, savagely. “We’ve got a mounted policeman on the job, besides others. If you can catch him it’s worth half a sov. to you.”