'W'y Mr. Anne, sir, if he 'ad, you
wouldn't have seen ME any more! I ain't a hass, sir!'
'Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pocket. You'll
have no more use for it till you're quite clear of me. Don't lose
it, though; it's your share of the Christmas-box: fifteen hundred
pounds all for yourself.'
'Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for!' said Rowley.
'To set up a public-house upon,' said I.
'If you'll excuse me, sir, I ain't got any call to set up a public-
house, sir,' he replied stoutly. 'And I tell you wot, sir, it
seems to me I'm reether young for the billet. I'm your body
servant, Mr. Anne, or else I'm nothink.'
'Well, Rowley,' I said, 'I'll tell you what it's for. It's for the
good service you have done me, of which I don't care--and don't
dare--to speak. It's for your loyalty and cheerfulness, my dear
boy. I had meant it for you; but to tell you the truth, it's past
mending now--it has to be yours. Since that man is waiting by the
bank, the money can't be touched until I'm gone.'
'Until you're gone, sir?' re-echoed Rowley. 'You don't go
anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr. Anne, sir!'
'Yes, my boy,' said I, 'we are going to part very soon now;
probably to-morrow. And it's for my sake, Rowley! Depend upon it,
if there was any reason at all for that Bow Street man being at the
bank, he was not there to look out for you.
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