He dreaded that his presence upon the barge should be known, and
yet he alike dreaded that the morning's light should come shiningly upon
him, without any boat coming to take him off. To be sure, the two men who had brought him there had made a
half-promise to come to his aid, but he felt certain he could not depend
upon their doing so. The look with which they had regarded him upon the
doubt, even, that he might be so frightful a criminal as he really was,
was sufficient to convince him that while that doubt remained they would
not return. "And what," he said, "is to dissipate the doubt? Nothing--nothing! But
anything may confirm it. Accidents always tell for the truth--never to
its prevention, and so I am lost--lost--quite lost." The bitterness of death seemed almost to be upon the point of assailing
Todd. He could fancy that spirits of the murdered shrieked and wailed
around him, as the wind whistled by his trembling frame. In this wretched state an hour passed, and then Todd thought he heard a
voice. "What is that?" he said. "Oh, what is that?" He inclined his head as low down to the edge of the water as he could
get it, and heard distinctly some one singing to the stroke of a pair of
oars, as they were deliberately dipped into the stream. The voice
sounded like that of some young lad, and a hope of succour sprung up in
the breast of Todd. In the course of a few moments he became perfectly convinced that the
boat was approaching the barge, and he shrunk down so that by being
prematurely seen he might not alarm the boy who was rowing down the
stream. The song continued, and it was quite evident from the manner in
which the boy sung it, that he was quite delighted with his own powers
in that line. "I must speak to him," thought Todd. "If I let him pass there may not be
another chance, now. I must speak to this boy, and speak to him freely
too. He comes--he comes." It was not so dark but that Todd could see pretty well the surface of
the river, and presently in dusky outline he was conscious of the
approach of a wherry in which was a boy, and he could see how the boy
moved his head to and fro to the tune that he was amusing himself with. "Hilloa!" cried Todd. Now Todd in this "Hilloa!" had for once in a way tuned his voice to such
a gentle pleasant sound, that it was quite a wonder to hear it, and he
was rather himself surprised at the manner in which he managed it so as
not to be at all alarming. The boy stopped rowing and looked about him. It was evident at the
moment that he could not tell where the sound came from. "Hilloa!" said Todd, again. "Ay--ay!" said the boy; "where are you?" "Here, my dear," said Todd, "on board of the barge, bless you. How are
you, my fine fellow--eh?" "Oh, I'm pretty well. Who are you?" "Why, don't you know me? I'm Mr. Smith. How is your father, my lad--eh?" "Oh, father's all right enough; but I didn't know as he knowed a Mr.
Smith at all." "Oh, yes, he does. Everybody knows a Mr. Smith. Come on, you can give me
a lift to shore off the barge here. This way. Just step up to the side
and I'll step into your pretty little wherry. And so your father is
quite well--eh, my fine lad? Do you know I was afraid he had caught a
little cold, and really have been quite uneasy about him." "Have you?" said the boy, as he pulled up to the side of the barge. "Where do you want to go to?" "Oh, anywhere you happen to be going, that's all, my fine lad. How you
do grow, to be sure!" "But how came you here, out in the river on the dredging-barge? Do you
belong to her?" "To be sure I do. I am Mr. Deputy Inspector Dredger Smith, and am forced
to come and superintend the barge, you see; but my boat that I sent to
shore for something, has not come back, and I am getting cold, for I am
not so young as you are, you know." "Why, I don't suppose you is, sir," said the boy; "but I'll put you
ashore, if you like." "Thank you, I should like." "Get in, then, sir. All's right. I'll hold on to the barge. Easy--easy
with you, sir. That will do. Which side of the river, sir, would you
like to be put ashore at, if you please?" The boy was evidently deeply impressed with the importance of the title
of Deputy Inspector Dredger, and was quite deferential to Todd. How delighted was Todd to get off the barge! It seemed to him like a
reprieve from death. "Which way is the tide, boy?" he said. "Running down, sir, but not fast." "That will do. I will trouble you, then, to row with it as comfortably
and as fast as you can. "But I'm going, sir, to Westminster, to meet father. I can't go down the
river, please sir. I would if I could. I said I would put you on shore
on either side you like, and that's a waste of time, for the tide is
getting fuller every minute, and it will be a hard pull against it, as
it is. I can't go down the river, so don't ask me, sir; indeed I can't." "Indeed?" "No, sir. If I put you ashore, you will find lots of watermen who will
be glad enough of the job." "What's your name?" "Bill White, sir." [Illustration: Todd Compels Bill White To Assist His Escape From The
Thames Police.] "Very well, Bill White. I dare say you have ears at your age, and guess
that to have one's brains blown out is not one of the most agreeable
things in the world, and perhaps you know a pistol when you see one. This that I take from my pocket and hold at your head is carefully
loaded, and if you don't pull away at once with the tide down the river,
I will scatter your brains into the river, and throw your lifeless
carcass after them. Do you understand that, Mr. Bill White?" Todd uttered these words in such a tone of fiendish malignity, and
glared into the eyes of the poor boy so, that he nearly drove him out of
his wits, and it was as much as his trembling hands could do to hold the
oars. For the space of about half a minute he could only glare at Todd
with his eyes and mouth as wide open as they could be. "Speak, devil's whelp!" cried Todd. "Why do you not answer me?" "Murder!" cried the boy. Todd caught him by the throat, and if the oars had not been well up in
the rollocks, they must have gone overboard. "Another such cry," said Todd, "and it is the last you shall have the
opportunity of making in this world." "Oh, no--no--"

"But I say yes. Listen to me! If you row me as I direct you, I will not
only do you no harm, but I will pay you well. If you still obstinately
refuse, I will murder you, and murder your father likewise, upon the
first opportunity." "I will row you down the river, sir. Oh, yes, I will do it. Indeed I
will, sir." "Very well. Take your oars, and pull away." The boy was in such a state of trembling, that although it was quite
evident he did his best to obey Todd, it was with the greatest
difficulty that he could pull a stroke, and it took him some minutes to
get the boat's head round to the tide. "Be careful," said Todd. "If I see you willing, I make any allowance for
you; but if I fancy, for a moment, that there is any idea of not obeying
me, I will kill you!"