There, my clerical character obliged me to leave them at the door.
I returned to the hotel, to make inquiries about conveyances.
The answers informed me that Crickgelly was a little fishing-village, and that there was no coach direct to it, but that two coaches running to two small Welsh towns situated at nearly equal distances from my destination, on either side of it, would pass through Shrewsbury the next morning.

The waiter added, that I could book a place--conditionally--by either of these vehicles; and that, as they were always well-filled, I had better be quick in making my choice between them.

Matters had now arrived at such a pass, that nothing was left for me but to trust to chance.

If I waited till the morning to see whether Screw and the Bow Street runner traveled in my direction, and to find out, in case they did, which coach they took, I should be running the risk of losing a place for myself, and so delaying my journey for another day.

This was not to be thought of.