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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

Rowley. This I had designed to be my gift to him, in
case I must suddenly depart. But now, thinking better of the
arrangement, I despatched my little man, cockade and all, to lift
the fifteen hundred.
He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face, and the
deposit receipt still in his hand.
'No go, Mr. Anne,' says he.
'How's that?' I inquired,
'Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mistake,' said he.
'But I tell you what gave me a blue fright! There was a customer
standing by the door, and I reckonised him! Who do you think it
was, Mr. Anne? W'y, that same Red-Breast--him I had breakfast with
near Aylesbury.'
'You are sure you are not mistaken?' I asked.
'Certain sure,' he replied. 'Not Mr. Lavender, I don't mean, sir;
I mean the other party. "Wot's he doing here?' says I. It don't
look right."'
'Not by any means,' I agreed.
I walked to and fro in the apartment reflecting. This particular
Bow Street runner might be here by accident; but it was to imagine
a singular play of coincidence that he, who had met Rowley and
spoken with him in the 'Green Dragon,' hard by Aylesbury, should be
now in Scotland, where he could have no legitimate business, and by
the doors of the bank where Rowley kept his account.
'Rowley,' said I, 'he didn't see you, did he?'
'Never a fear,' quoth Rowley.


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