Detective and mystery stories; London (England) -- Fiction; Swindlers and swindling -- Fiction
"I know him well enough for all practical purposes," replied the beggar.
"Now, if you’ve got any more objections to raise, be quick about it. If
you haven’t, then I’ll talk to you. You haven’t? Very good then. Now,
just hold your jaw, open your ears, and listen to what I’ve got to say.
What time do you go to exercise to-morrow morning?"
"Nine o’clock."
"Very good then. You go down on to the Downs, and the boss sends you
off with Vulcanite for a canter. What do you do? Why, you go steadily
enough as long as he can see you, but directly you’re round on the other
side of the hill you stick in your heels, and nip into the wood that
runs along on your right hand, just as if your horse was bolting with
you. Once in there, you go through for a half-a-mile until you come to
the stream, ford that, and then cut into the next wood, riding as if the
devil himself were after you, until you reach the path above Hangman’s
Hollow. Do you know the place?"
"I reckon I ought to."
"Well, then, you just make tracks for it. When you get there you’ll
find me waiting for you. After that I’ll take over command, and get
both you and the horse out of England in such a way that nobody will
ever suspect. Then there’ll be five hundred pounds for your trouble, a
safe passage with the horse to South America, and another five hundred
the day the nag is set ashore. There’s not as much risk as you could
take between your finger and thumb, and a lad with a spirit like yours
could make a fortune with a thousand pounds on the other side. What
have you to say now?"
"It’s all very well," replied the lad, "but how am I to know that you’ll
play straight with me?"
"What do you take me for?" said the beggar indignantly, at the same time
putting his hand in his coat pocket and producing what looked like a
crumpled piece of paper. "If you doubt me, there’s something that may
help to convince you. But don’t go showing it around to-night, or
you’ll be giving yourself away, and that’ll mean the Stone Jug for you,
and ’Amen’ to all your hopes of a fortune. You’ll do as I wish now, I
suppose?"
"I’ll do it," said the lad sullenly, as he crumpled the banknote up and
put it in his pocket. "But now I must be off. Since there’s been this
fuss about Knight of Malta, the guv’nor has us all in before eight
o’clock, and keeps the horse under lock and key, with the head lad
sleeping in the box with him."
"Well, good-night to you, and don’t you forget about to-morrow morning;
niggle the horse about a bit just to make him impatient like, and drop a
hint that he’s a bit fresh. That will make his bolting look more
feasible. Don’t leave the track while there’s any one near you, but, as
soon as you do, ride like thunder to the place I told you of. I’ll see
that they’re put off the scent as to the way you’ve gone."
"All right," said the lad. "I don’t like it, but I suppose I’m in too
deep now to draw back. Good-night."
"Good-night, and good luck to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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