Explore "Honor of Thieves" by Cutcliffe Hyne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Theodore Shelf had arranged for an exodus _de luxe_, and flattered himself that he would have no difficulty in carrying it out. He had got to know exactly when the police were going to come for him at the house in Park Lane, and had slipped away from there in his own brougham, so as to leave himself a comfortable margin of start. He had stepped out of a railway-carriage at Newport, whilst all the authorities fondly imagined he was still on his way to Liverpool; and, with George and a small russia-leather handbag, had taken a cab down to the docks.
He pulled out his large gold watch, looked at it, and smiled. Punctual to the minute! He paid his cabman, and, with the dog at his heels, stepped daintily amongst the litter on the wharf to where a single gang-plank joined it to the _Gazelle_, one of his own steamers. He went on board and shook hands with the captain.