Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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“I will do my best, my lord,” returned Wrench.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I think, that is all we have to say at present, Wrench,” said Mr. Chicknell. “I will see you later on.”

The detective took the hint, bowed, and retired.

“Confound it!” he murmured, as he descended the stairs. “Who could have told him of the attempted robbery? ‘Ill news travels fast’ is an old saying, which is borne out in this instance.”

For the remainder of the day Peace was actively employed in an endeavour to find out the man who had created such a disturbance at the “Carved Lion” on the preceding evening; but, as he had anticipated, he found this by no means an easy task.

The gipsy had got clear off. There were traces of his passage along the high road by the marks of blood which had poured from his wound, but they gradually became fainter, after which they were no longer distinguishable.

Wrench had proved himself to be a proficient in that department of his profession known as “thief catching,” but he was by no means sanguine of success in this case. Neither did he care much about it, for he argued that no possible good could accrue by the arrest of the gipsy; certainly, none as far as he (the detective) was concerned. In point of fact, it would be a needless exposure of his own want of caution.