Plotters Counterplotted.

Meanwhile the gentlemanly house-breaker, returning to Athenbury, rejoined his rude colleagues, and these three choice spirits, after partaking of some refreshment, and treating the policeman who first came to their aid to a glass of gin, betook themselves to the railway station.

“He won’t come here, you may depend on’t,” observed the policeman to the gentlemanly burglar, when he had taken his ticket, “he’s too wide-awake for that.”

“Perhaps not; but it’s as well to watch.”

“Yes, it’s as well to watch,” assented the policeman.

“Besides, wide-awake fellows over-reach themselves sometimes,” continued the other. “I shouldn’t wonder, now, if he had the impudence to come straight here and denounce me as a thief, just by way o’ stoppin’ me from goin’ by the train, and so having some sort o’ revenge.”

“Ha!” exclaimed the policeman, in a tone and with a slight but peculiar look that made the gentlemanly man feel a little uneasy.

The fugitive did not appear, however. Every face that came on the platform was carefully scrutinised without any result, and at length the bell rang.

“Good-night, friend,” said the burglar, slipping a half-crown into the policeman’s hand as he was about to jump into the carriage. “It was no fault of yours that we didn’t catch him. You did your best.”

“Yes, I did my best.”

“Hallo! are you going by this train?” exclaimed the burglar.

“Yes, I’ve got business in Wreckumoft, so we’ll have the pleasure o’ travellin’ together.”

The gentlemanly man felt that the pleasure would be entirely confined to one side. However, he expressed much joy at the prospect of such good company, as the policeman sat down beside him.

The train gave a pant, then a snort, then an impatient whistle. Then the bell rang a second time, the whistle sounded a single note, and the carriages moved slowly away. A moment more, and they were sweeping out of the station; a moment more and they were rushing over the moor; another moment, and they were dashing through space, setting all terrestrial things at naught, until a station came in view; then the whistle uttered a prolonged shriek, and the train began to slow. Up to this point the policeman and his friends had sat together in comparative silence.

The former put his head out of the window, and remarked that, “there was a feller as would be too late for the train.”

The moonlight enabled him to perceive that the late man was a labourer of some sort.

The train ran into the station and stopped.

“Tickets ready!” shouted the guard.

“That’ll give him a chance,” observed the gentlemanly burglar.

“All right?” inquired the guard.

“All right,” replied the ticket-inspector. The bell rang, the guard whistled, so did the engine; it puffed too, and the train began to move.

“Look sharp now,” cried the station-master eagerly to some one outside the office. “Athenbury? Here you are—four shillings; run!”

The guard knew that it was a late passenger, and, being a good-hearted fellow, held the door of a carriage open, even although the train was on the move.

A man in a smock-frock and slouch-hat rushed across the platform at this moment, and made for the door which the guard held open.

“Jump!” said the guard.

The gentlemanly burglar and the policeman lent their aid to pull the man into the train; the door banged, and they were away.

“You’ve all but missed it,” said the burglar.

The man in the smock-frock pulled his slouch-hat well over his eyes, and admitted that it was a “close shave.” Then he laid his head on the side of the carriage and breathed hard.

“Take a drop o’ gin,” said the burglar in a patronising way, “it’ll bring you to in a minute.”

Kenneth knew by his manner that he did not guess who it was that sat beside him, so he resolved to accept the offer.

“Thank’ee, I loik gin. It waarms the cockles o’ yer ’art, it do,” said Kenneth.

“Goin’ far?” inquired the policeman.

“To Wreckumoft.”

“You seems to have got on yer Sunday trousers?” observed the policeman.

“Wall, there an’t no sin in that,” replied the supposed labourer, somewhat sharply.

“Certainly not,” said the policeman. “It’s a fine night, an’t it?”

“It is a foine night,” responded the labourer, putting his head out of the window.

“Yes, a very fine night,” repeated the policeman, also thrusting his head out at the same window, and holding a sotto voce conversation with Kenneth, the result of which was that he became very............