"The river!" he went on. "The river, guv'nor! Don't this here river,
running into the free and bounding ocean six miles away, offer the best
chance? What we want to do is to take a look round these here docks and
quays and wharves--keeping our eyes open--and our ears as well. Come on
with me, guv'nor--I know places all along this riverside where you could
hide the Bank of England till it was wanted--so to speak."
"But the others?" suggested Copplestone. "Hadn't we better fetch them?"
"No!" retorted Spurge, assertively. "Two on us is enough. You trust to
me, guv'nor--I'll find out something. I know these docks--and all that's
alongside 'em. I'd do the job myself, now--but it'll be better to have
somebody along of me, in case we want a message sending for help or
anything of that nature. Come on--and if I don't find out before noon if
there's any queer craft gone out o' this since morning--why, then, I
ain't what I believe myself to be."
Copplestone, who had considerable faith in the poacher's shrewdness,
allowed himself to be led into the lowest part of the town--low in more
than one sense of the word. Norcaster itself, as regards its ancient
and time-hallowed portions, its church, its castle, its official
buildings and highly-respectable houses, stood on the top of a low
hill; its docks and wharves and the mean streets which intersected them
had been made on a stretch of marshland that lay between the foot of
that hill and the river.
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