CHAPTER LVII
AN ADDLED EGG
"Go ahead, Jack!" said the baronet, after they had
crunched the frozen snow in silence for a quarter of a mile.
"See that everything is ready, and secure a couple of
berths in the 'Weekly Dispatch,' or whatever they call
that lumbering 'Flying Post' coach's consort, for the
whole trip. I'll be down directly."
"For you and me, Sir George?" asked Slap-Jack, exhilarated by the prospect of a voyage to London. "Deck passengers, both, if I may be so bold? The fore-hold of a slaver's a joke to them London coaches between decks."
"Do as you're ordered," answered his master, "and be smart about it. Keep your tongue between your teeth, and wait at the 'Hamilton Arms' till I come."
Sir George was obviously disinclined for conversation, and Slap-Jack hastened on forthwith, delighted to have an hour or two of leisure in his favourite resort, for reasons which will hereafter appear.
No sooner was his servant out of sight than the baronet retraced his steps, and took up a position under some yew-*trees, so as to be completely screened from observation. Hence he could watch the door opening on his wife's garden, and the windows of the gallery, already lighted, which she must traverse to reach her own room.
It was a pitiful weakness, he thought, but it could do no harm just to see her shadow pass once more for the last, last time!
Meanwhile Slap-Jack, arriving all in a glow at the "Hamilton Arms," found that hostelry in a great state of
