'I say, wouldn't it look queer if you and me was to come to the
post-house with all this luggage?' said Rowley.
'I dare say,' I replied. 'But what else is to be done?'
'Well, now, sir--you hear me,' says Rowley. 'I think it would look
more natural-like if you was to come to the post-house alone, and
with nothing in your 'ands--more like a gentleman, you know. And
you might say that your servant and baggage was a-waiting for you
up the road. I think I could manage, somehow, to make a shift with
all them dratted things--leastways if you was to give me a 'and up
with them at the start.'
'And I would see you far enough before I allowed you to try, Mr.
Rowley!' I cried. 'Why, you would be quite defenceless! A footpad
that was an infant child could rob you. And I should probably come
driving by to find you in a ditch with your throat cut. But there
is something in your idea, for all that; and I propose we put it in
execution no farther forward than the next corner of a lane.'
Accordingly, instead of continuing to aim for Aylesbury, we headed
by cross-roads for some point to the northward of it, whither I
might assist Rowley with the baggage, and where I might leave him
to await my return in the post-chaise.
It was snowing to purpose, the country all white, and ourselves
walking snowdrifts, when the first glimmer of the morning showed us
an inn upon the highwayside.
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