Tillotson shook his head.
“They’d be bound to spot you tramping about the country,” he said confidently. “Now do let me know what’s best for you, and go by train.”
“I won’t,” said Gething obstinately. “You’ve been very kind, more than kind, in giving me warning. Let me go off by myself.”
Tillotson shook his head and glanced carelessly in the direction of Glover, who was some few yards behind.
“I wish you’d trust me,” he said earnestly. “You’ll be safer in London than anywhere.”
Captain Gething pondered. “There’s a schooner about half a mile up the river, which is getting away about one o’clock this morning,” he said slowly. “I’ve worked on her once or twice, and the skipper might take us if you can pay him well. He knows me as Stroud.”
“If you’ll wait here a minute or two I’ll go to the railway station and get my bag,” said Tillotson, who wanted to confer with his chief.
“I’ll wait up the road under the arch,” said Captain Gething.
“Now don’t run away,” said Tillotson impressively. “If you won’t go by train, perhaps the schooner is the best thing we can do.”
He set off to the station, and after a hurried consultation with Glover, returned anxiously to the arch. Gething, standing in the shadow with his hands in his pockets, was patiently waiting.