''
``But where am I to go?'' stammered Stoner, who had caught
the infection of the old man's obvious terror.
``Go right away along the coast to Punchford and keep hid
there. When Michael's safe gone I'll ride the roan over to
the Green Dragon at Punchford; when you see the cob stabled
at the Green Dragon 'tis a sign you may come back agen.''
``But---'' began Stoner hesitatingly.
``'Tis all right for money,'' said the other; ``the old
Missus agrees you'd best do as I say, and she's given me
this.''
The old man produced three sovereigns and some odd silver.
Stoner felt more of a cheat than ever as he stole away
that night from the back gate of the farm with the old
woman's money in his pocket. Old George and Bowker's pup
stood watching him a silent farewell from the yard. He
could scarcely fancy that he would ever come back, and he
felt a throb of compunction for those two humble friends who
would wait wistfully for his return. Some day perhaps the
real Tom would come back, and there would be wild wonderment
among those simple farm folks as to the identity of the
shadowy guest they had harboured under their roof.
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