"What's that?" asked one of the detectives.
"Nothing," Mr. Hawker replied, in a tone of sarcasm. "I was thinkin' of a friend of mine, what'll be sorry I was took."
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE VICAR OF DUNWOLD.
At a safe distance Victor Nevill stopped and turned around. When the cab rolled away, he walked slowly back, looking keenly at the house as he passed it. His demeanor was calm, but it was only skin deep. He felt like swearing loudly at everybody and everything. His brain was in a whirl of rage and fear, sharp anxiety and keen disappointment. He had recognized Noah Hawker and seen the gleam of steel at his wrists, which explained the situation as clearly as words could have done.
"The poor chap has been tracked and arrested," he thought; "possibly for some past burglary. Our negotiations are ended for the present, confound the luck! But the papers! By Jove, suppose Hawker had them on his person! If so, they will be found when he is searched. They will be opened and examined, and the whole truth will come out. I can't be sure that Hawker won't give away my part in the affair. I shall be ruined—nothing short of it! What a luckless devil I am!"
The iron hand of Nemesis seemed reaching out to grasp Nevill, and he shuddered as he realized his danger. The rustle of the bank notes in his breast pocket afforded him a momentary relief as he remembered that they would give him a fresh start in case he had to flee from England. Then a sudden thought lightened the gloom still more, and he clutched eagerly at the ray of hope thus thrown out.
"Hawker was too shrewd a man to be caught unawares," he reasoned. "He kept the papers in a secure hiding-place, and he certainly would not have taken them from it until I came and he saw the color of the money. Nor is it likely that the police found them, though they must have searched the place. If they are still in the room, why should I not try to get possession of them? I could square up with Hawker afterward, when he recovers his liberty. By Jove, it's worth risking!"
Nevill walked as far as Peckwater street, debating the question. He did not hesitate long, for there was too much at stake. He quickly made up his mind, and retraced his steps to the dingy house from which the detectives had taken their prisoner. He had planned his course of procedure when the door opened to his knock, and Mrs. Miggs revealed her distrustful countenance. Nevill tendered her half a sovereign on the spot, and asked to see the room lately occupied by Mr. Noah Hawker.