If he had been in company of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego,
when they started on their progress through the fiery furnace, and if
they had insisted upon his accompanying them, he would have smiled
feebly, and gone--that is, if he could not by some means or other slink
away out of sight. Now, if he could have gone out of the door on some
pretence and run off, down King Street, he would have borne the
subsequent shame and humiliation. But he knew that the captain would
have been up with him in five strides. So he determined to make the best
of it, drank another tumbler of claret, and became almost hysterically
eager for the morning.
"I'll see you don't oversleep yourself," were the last words of the
captain as he went off. "I'll look you up and take you down to Victoria
in my hansom. You needn't bring any luggage, you know. A clean shirt and
a tooth-brush will see you through."
Thus faded Josiah's last and secret hope, one he had cherished even
whilst he drank his claret and talked boldly of aerial navigation. He
might, he had thought, peradventure oversleep himself and miss the
train, and all would be well. But the captain would call for him, and
there was plainly no escape. However, he had made his will, and
"Underground England" was in such an advanced stage that it might be
published as "a fragment," and would be sufficient to carry his name
down to remotest posterity.
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