I
That Buck MacGinnis was not the man to let the under his in a like the present one, I would have from White's if I had not already done so from personal observation. The world is into and men of action. From what little I had of him I Buck MacGinnis in the class. Every day I him to act, and was as each twenty-four hours passed and left me still unfixed. But I the hour would come, and it did.
I looked for attack from Buck, not subtlety; but, when the attack came, it was so that my was a of amazement. It that such Wild Western events in peaceful England, in so a spot as Sanstead House.
It had been one of those days which only at schools. A school, more than any other institution, is on the weather. Every small boy from his of a with a quantity of devilry; and this, if he is to sleep the sleep of health, he has got to work off somehow bedtime. That is why the term is the one a master for, when the can be in the open. There is no for an assistant-master at a private than that of a number of boys their in the sunshine.
On this particular day, had to early in the morning, and, while his would have been only too to go out and roll in it by the hour, they were from doing so by Mr Abney's orders. No his of cold, and just then Mr Abney was on the subject. The Saturnalia which had Mr MacGinnis' visit to the had had the of to three lords, a baronet, and the son of an honourable. And, in to that, Mr Abney himself, his to a croak, was in his looking on the world with eyes. His views, therefore, on playing in the as an for boys were naturally prejudiced.
The result was that Glossop and I had to try and keep order among a of small boys, none of had had any of off his energy. How Glossop I can only imagine. Judging by the that I, who order without effort, was almost overwhelmed, I should he badly. His was on the opposite of the from mine, and at his voice would my door, to a fortissimo.
Little by little, however, we had through the day, and the boys had into over their preparation, when from the door there the of the engine of a large automobile. The rang.
I did not, I remember, pay much attention to this at the moment. I that somebody from one of the big houses in the had called, or, taking the of the hour into consideration, that a party had come, as they did sometimes—Sanstead House some miles from in the middle of an of by-roads—to the way to Portsmouth or London. If my class had allowed me, I would have the sound. But for them it just that in the of which they had needed. They it vociferously.
A voice: 'Sir, please, sir, there's a outside.'
Myself (austerely): I know there's a outside. Get on with your work.'
Various voices: 'Sir, have you in a motor?'
'Sir, my father let me help drive our last Easter, sir.'
'Sir, who do you think it is?'
An (imitating the engine): 'Pr-prr! Pr-prr! Pr-prr!'
I was on the point of marks (the schoolmaster's stand-by) broadcast, when a me. It directly upon the opening of the door. I White's the hall, then the of the latch, and then—a that I not define. The closed door of the it, but for all that it was audible. It the of a body, but I it not be that, for in peaceful England opening doors did not with thuds.
My class, listeners, fresh material in the for conversation.
'Sir, what was that, sir?'
'Did you that, sir?'
'What do you think's happened, sir?'
'Be quiet,' I shouted. 'Will you be—'
There was a quick outside, the door open, and on the a short, man in a and cap. The upper part of his was by a of white linen, with for the eyes, and there was a Browning pistol in his hand.
It is my that, if assistant-masters were allowed to wear white and pistols, order in a would child's play. A such as no threat of marks had been able to produce upon the classroom. Out of the of my eye, as I to our visitor, I see small boys at this of all the by fiction. As as I ascertain, on inquiry, not one of them a of fear. It was all too for that. For their an from a paper for boys had come to life, and they had no time to waste in being frightened.
As for me, I was dazed. Motor may France, and up in America, but this was peaceful England. The that Buck MacGinnis was at large in the did not make the thing any the less incredible. I had looked on my with Buck as a thing of the open air and the darkness. I had him in wait in roads, possibly, even, about the grounds; but in my most moments I had not him calling at the door and me up with a in my own classroom.
And yet it was the simple, the obvious, thing for him to do. Given an automobile, success was certain. Sanstead House alone. There was not a a mile. A train in the middle of the Bad Lands was not more cut off.
Consider, too, the of a in such a case. A on the of parents, a which the can destroy. Everything with it must be done with discretion. I do not Mr MacGinnis had the thing out in all its bearings, but he not have a move if he had been a Napoleon. Where the owner of an ordinary country-house by men can the in pursuit, a must do the opposite. From his point of view, the people that know of the the better. Parents are a race. A man may be the schoolmaster, yet will a with him in the of parents. They do not inquire. They are too panic-stricken for that. Golden-haired Willie may be the education conceivable, yet if men with Browning pistols are familiar objects at his of learning they will remove him. Fortunately for it is that such visitors call upon them. Indeed, I Mr MacGinnis's to have been the of its kind.
I do not, as I say, that Buck, was action than brain-work, had all this out. He had to luck, and luck had by him. There would be no of the in his case. On the contrary, I see Mr Abney one of the on record in his to the thing up and prevent it into the papers. The man with the pistol spoke. He me—I was with my to the mantelpiece, with the door—made a turn, and his weapon.
'Put 'em up, sport,' he said.
It was not the voice of Buck MacGinnis. I put my hands up.
'Say, which of is de Nugget?'
He his to the class.
'Which of is Ogden Ford?'
The class was speech. The continued.
'Ogden Ford is not here,' I said.
Our visitor had not that which is so much than Norman blood. He did not me. Without moving his he gave a long whistle. Steps outside. Another, short, form, entered the room.
'He ain't in de room,' the newcomer. 'I been rubberin'!'
This was friend Buck question. I have his voice anywhere!
'Well guy,' said the man with the pistol, me, 'says he ain't here. What's de answer?'
'Why, it's Sam!' said Buck. 'Howdy, Sam? Pleased to see us, huh?
We're in on de ground floor, too, time, all right, all right.'
His had a marked on his colleague.
'Is Sam? Hell! Let me de off'n him!' he said, with fervour; and, a step nearer, he his truculently. In my role of Sam I had myself very unpopular. I have so much packed into a words.
Buck, to my relief, the motion. I this of
Buck.
'Cheese it,' he said curtly.
The other it. The operation took the of the fist. The pistol he in position.
Mr MacGinnis the of affairs.
'Now den, Sam,' he said, 'come across! Where's de Nugget?'
'My name is not Sam,' I said. 'May I put my hands down?'
'Yep, if you want the top of your off.'
Such was not my desire. I them up.
'Now den, you Sam,' said Mr MacGinnis again, 'we ain't got time to burn. Out with it. Where's Nugget?'
Some reply was required. It was to keep that I was not Sam.
'At this time in the he is with Mr
Glossop.'
'Who's Glossop? Dat dough-faced in de room over dere?'
'Exactly. You have him perfectly.'
'Well, he ain't dere. I rubberin.' Aw, foolin', Sam, where is he?'
'I couldn't tell you just where he is at the present moment,' I said precisely.
'Ahr chee! Let me him one!' the man with the pistol; a most person. I have a friend of him.
'Cheese it, you!' said Mr MacGinnis.
The other it once more, regretfully.
'You got him away somewheres, Sam,' said Mr MacGinnis. 'You can't me. I'm com' t'roo joint a fine-tooth till I him.'
'By all means,' I said. 'Don't let me stop you.'
'You? You're me.'
'If you wish it. I shall be delighted.'
'An' cut out dam' way of talking, you rummy,' Buck, with a into ferocity. 'Spiel like a regular guy! Standin' dere, pullin' on me! Cut it out!'
'Say, why mayn't I hand him one?' the pistol-bearer pathetically. 'What's your against pushin' his in?'
I the question in taste. Buck it.
'Gimme canister,' he said, taking the Browning pistol from him. 'Now den, Sam, are goin' to be good, and come across, or ain't you—which?'
'I'd be to do anything you wished, Mr MacGinnis,' I said, 'but—'
'Aw, a hall!' said Buck disgustedly. 'Step lively, den, an' we'll go t'roo de joint. I t'ought 'ud have had more sense, Sam, to play game when you know you're beat. You—'
Shooting pains in my me to him.
'One moment,' I said. 'I'm going to put my hands down. I'm cramp.'
'I'll a in you if you do!'
'Just as you please. But I'm not armed.'
'Lefty,' he said to the other man, 'feel around to see if he's carryin' anyt'ing.'
Lefty and to me scientifically in the of my pockets. He the while. I suppose, at this close range, the to 'hand me one' was almost more than he bear.
'He ain't got no gun,' he gloomily.
'Den can put 'em down,' said Mr MacGinnis.
'Thanks,' I said.
'Lefty, here and look after kids. Get a move on,
Sam.'
We left the room, a little of two, myself leading, Buck in my occasional with the 'canister'.
II
The thing that met my as we entered the was the of a man by the door. The light of the lamp on his and I saw that it was White. His hands and were tied. As I looked at him, he moved, as if against his bonds, and I was of a of relief. That that had me in the classroom, that of a body, had become, in the light of what had later, very sinister. It was good to know that he was still alive. I gathered—correctly, as I subsequently—that in his case the sand-bag had been utilized. He had been and the he opened the door.
There was a man against the by Glossop's classroom. He was and sturdy. The Buck MacGinnis to have been out on a pattern. Externally, they might all have been twins. This man, to give him a of individuality, had a red moustache. He was a cigar with the air of the taking his rest.
'Hello!' he said, as we appeared. He a thumb the classroom. 'I've locked in. What's doin', Buck?' he asked, me with a nod.
'We're going t'roo de joint,' Mr MacGinnis. 'De kid ain't in dere. Hump yourself, Sam!'
His colleague's with magic swiftness.
'Sam! Is Sam? Here, let me de off'n him!'
Few points in this me as more than the of taste which prevailed, as myself, among the members of Mr MacGinnis's gang. Men, of opinions on other subjects, on this one point they were unanimous. They all wanted to me.
Buck, however, had other for me. For the present, I was necessary as a guide, and my value as such would be were the to be off me. Though no me than did his assistants, he to allow to with business. He his attention on the with all the of the who the banner with the device in the poem.
Briefly his to it—which he did—he me on with the of the pistol. The red-moustached man against the again with an air of dejection, his cigar now like one who has had in life, while we passed on up the stairs and to the rooms on the floor.
These of Mr Abney's study and two dormitories. The study was empty, and the only of the were the three boys who had been with on the occasion of Mr MacGinnis's last visit. They with at the of the assistant-master in such company.
Buck them disappointedly. I waited with something of the of a taking a the sample room.
'Get on,' said Buck.
'Won't one of those do?'
'Hump yourself, Sam.'
'Call me Sammy,' I urged. 'We're old friends now.'
'Don't fresh,' he said austerely. And we moved on.
The top was more than the first. There was no one in the dormitories. The only other room was Mr Abney's; and, as we came opposite it, a from told of the of its occupant.
The Buck to his depths. He 'pointed' at the door like a smell-dog.
'Who's in dere?' he demanded.
'Only Mr Abney. Better not him. He has a cold.'
He a on my for my employer.
His manner excited.
'Open door, you,' he cried.
'It'll give him a shock.'
'G'wan! Open it!'
No one who is a Browning pistol into the small of my will me disobliging. I opened the door—knocking first, as a mild to the conventions—and the passed in.
My was on his back, at the ceiling, and our entrance did not at him to this position.
'Yes?' he said thickly, and a pocket-handkerchief. Muffled sounds, as of of dynamite, together with of the bedclothes, told of another sneezing-fit.
'I'm sorry to you,' I began, when Buck, the man of action, with a of palaver, past me, and, having with the pistol that part of the which a that Mr Abney's were concealed, the one word, 'Sa-a-ay!'
Mr Abney sat up like a Jack-in-the-box. One might almost say that he up. And then he saw Buck.
I cannot what were Mr Abney's at that moment. He was a man who, from up, had a and regular life. Things like Buck had appeared to him hitherto, if they appeared at all, only in after suppers. Even in the ordinary of the Bowery gentleman, without such as and pistols, Buck was no beauty. With that of white on his face, he was a walking nightmare.
Mr Abney's had and his had to their limits. His hair, by with the pillow, gave the of on end. His to like a snail's. He at Buck, fascinated.
'Say, you, rubberin'. Youse ain't in a museum. Where's Ford kid, huh?'
I have set all Mr MacGinnis's as if they had been in a bell-like voice with a clear and enunciation; but, in doing so, I have him. In reality, his mode of speech that he had something large and in his mouth; and it was not easy for a to him. Mr Abney failed to do so. He to till the was by a sneeze.
One cannot a man with any to oneself. Buck by the in silence, waiting for the to itself.
I, meanwhile, had where I stood, close to the door. And, as I waited for Mr Abney to sneezing, for the time since Buck's Lefty had entered the the idea of action to me. Until this moment, I suppose, the and of these had my brain. To Buck and to wait with equal while he Mr Abney had the only open to me. To one life has from such things, the of a Browning pistol is irresistible.
But now, from this influence, I to think; and, my mind making up for its previous by with swiftness, I a plan of action at once.
It was simple, but I had an idea that it would be effective. My in my with the of Sanstead House and Buck's of it. Let me but an start, and he might vain. It was this start which I saw my way to achieving.
To Buck it had not yet that it was a error to me the door and himself. I he too on the pistol. He was not looking at me.
The next moment my were on the of the electric light, and the room was in darkness.
There was a chair by the door. I it and it into the space us. Then, back, I the door and ran.
I did not without a in view. My was the study. This, as I have explained, was on the floor. Its window looked out on to a of lawn at the of the house in a shrubbery. The would not be pleasant, but I to a that ran up the close to the window, and, in any case, I was not in a position to be by the of a or two. I had not failed to that my position was one of peril. When Buck, the of the house, that the Little Nugget was not there—as I had to know that he would—there was no room for that he would the protection which he had to me up to the present in my of guide. On me the of the would fall. No for their own safety would them. If the was to man, I saw mine. My only was to out into the grounds, where the would make an impossibility.
It was an which must be settled one way or the other in a seconds, and I calculated that it would take Buck just those to win his way past the chair and the door-handle.
I was right. Just as I the study, the door of the open, and the house with and the noise of on the landing. From the came shouts, but with an note in them. The were willing, but puzzled. They did not like to their without instructions, and Buck, as he over the boards, was unintelligible.
I was in the study, the door locked me, they arrive at an understanding. I to the window.
The rattled. Voices shouted. A a kick, and the door on its hinges.
And then, for the time, I think, in my life, panic me, the sheer, which the reason. It over me in a wave, that terror which comes to one in dreams. Indeed, the thing had dream-like. I to be myself, looking on at myself, myself and with at a window that would not open.
III
The arm-chair critic, a and at his ease, is to make too small for the of and on the mind. He is and detached. He sees what ought to have been done, and by what means might have been averted.
He would have work of my present difficulty, I certain. It was simple. But I had my head, and had for the moment to be a creature. In the end, indeed, it was no presence of mind but pure good luck which saved me. Just as the door, which had out gallantly, gave way the attack from outside, my fingers, slipping, against the catch of the window, and I why I had failed to it.
I the catch back, and up the sash. An wind into the room, of snow. I on to the window-sill, and a crash from me told of the of the door.
The packed on the was my as I my way out and prepared to drop. There was a the room, and something my like a iron. I out with the pain of it, and, my balance, from the sill.
There was, for me, a the window, or I should have been undone. I into it, all arms and legs, in a way which would have meant if I had the hard turf. I was on my in an instant, and and, incidentally, in a than in my life before. The idea of flight, which had me a moment before, to the of all other affairs, had absolutely. I was full of fight, I might say overflowing with it. I there, with the in my and neck, and my at the window. Two of my were out of it, while a third them, like a small man on the of a crowd. So from being for my escape, I was only of a of that there was no way of at them.
They no move the quick but trying which had itself to me. They to be waiting for something to happen. It was not long I was aware of what this something was. From the direction of the door came the of one running. A of the noise of his told me that he had left the and was on the turf. I a or two and waited.
It was dark, and I had no that I should be seen. I was well the light from the window.
The man stopped just in of me. A followed.
'Can'tja see him?'
The voice was not Buck's. It was Buck who answered. And when I that this man in of me, easy reach, on I was about to spring, and I proposed, under Providence, to into the shape of a corkscrew, was no underling, but Mr MacGinnis himself, I was with a which I it hard to in silence.
Looking back, I am a little sorry for Mr MacGinnis. He was not a good man. His mode of speech was not pleasant, and his manners were than his speech. But, though he all that was to him, it was luck for him to be just there at just that moment. The after my panic, added to the pain of my shoulder, the on my face, and the of being wet and cold, had me a and a to do somebody, to come along, hurt, such as the of the peaceful. To put it crisply, I was mad, and I looked on Buck as something sent by Heaven.
He had got as far, in his reply, as 'Naw, I can't—' when I sprang.
I have read of the of the jaguar, and I have some very flying-tackles on the football field. My the of both. I with Mr MacGinnis in the region of the waist, and the he gave as we to the ground was music to my ears.
But how true is the old Roman saying, 'Surgit aliquid'. Our are perfect. There is always something. In the programme which I had out, the of Mr MacGinnis was but a small item, a preliminary. There were a number of which I had to do to him, once upset. But it was not to be. Even as I for his I that the light of the window was an eclipse. A had out on to the sill, as I had done, and I the of his shoes on the as he himself for the drop.
There is a moment when the functions must come to an end. I was to part from Mr MacGinnis just when I was beginning, as it were, to do myself justice; but it was unavoidable. In another moment his would upon us, like some Homeric god from a cloud, and I was not prepared to continue the against odds.
I myself—Mr MacGinnis the process—and was on my in the safety of the just as the touched earth. This time I did not wait. My for had been to some by my with Buck, and I was satisfied to have safety with honour.
Making a wide I the drive and my way through the to a yards of where the stood, the night with the soft of its engines. I was to see what would be the enemy's next move. It was that they would attempt to the in search of me. I that they would failure and retire they had come.
I was right. I had not been long, a little group into the light of the automobile's lamps. There were four of them. Three were walking, the fourth, with the and that marks the expert, on their arms, of which they had something a stretcher.
The driver of the car, who had been in his seat, at the sound.
'Ja him?' he inquired.
'Get nothing!' one of the three moodily. 'De Nugget ain't dere, an' we was chasin' Sam to him, an' he for us, an' what he did to Buck was plenty.'
They their valuable in the tonneau, where he himself, and two of them in after him. The third seated himself the driver.
'Buck's leg's broke,' he announced.
'Hell!' said the chauffeur.
No actor, his of applause, have a of than I did at those words. Life may have than the of a kidnapper's leg, but I did not think so then. It was with an that I stopped myself from cheering.
'Let her go,' said the man in the seat.
The rose to a roar. The car and to move with speed the drive. Its fainter, and ceased. I the from my and walked to the door.
My act on entering the house, was to White. He was still where I had him last. He appeared to have no with the on his and ankles. I came to his help with a pocket-knife, and he rose and to the arms in silence.
'They've gone,' I said.
He nodded.
'Did they you with a sand-bag?'
He again.
'I Buck's leg,' I said, with pride.
He looked up incredulously. I related my as as possible, and when I came to the part where I my tackle, the was from his by a smile. Buck's may have its pain, but it was the of to others. White's manner was one of the as I the scene.
'That'll Buck for a while,' was his comment. 'I we shan't from him for a week or two. That's the best for the I've struck.'
He the that just his hair. I did not wonder at his emotion. Whoever had the sand-bag had done his work well, in a manner to hard on the part of the victim.
I had been this of an noise like thunder. I now that it came from Glossop's classroom, and was by the of hands on the door-panels. I that the red-moustached man had locked Glossop and his in. It to me that he had done well. There would be of without their assistance.
I was my own when I saw Audrey on the stairs and to meet her.
'It's all right,' I said. 'They've gone.'
'Who was it? What did they want?'
'It was a named MacGinnis and some friends. They came after Ogden Ford, but they didn't him.'
'Where is he? Where is Ogden?'
Before I reply, loose. While we had been talking, White had the key of Glossop's which now its occupants, by my colleague, in a stream. At the same moment my own to empty itself. The was packed with boys, and the deafening. Every one had something to say, and they all said it at once.
Glossop was at my side, violently.
'We must telephone,' he in my ear, 'for the police.'
Somebody at my arm. It was Audrey. She was saying something which was in the uproar. I her the stairs, and we on the landing.
'What were you saying?' I asked.
'He isn't there.'
'Who?'
'Ogden Ford. Where is he? He is not in his room. They must have taken him.'
Glossop came up at a gallop, from to like the of the Alps.
'We must telephone for the police!' he cried.
'I have telephoned,' said Audrey, 'ten minutes ago. They are sending some men at once. Mr Glossop, was Ogden Ford in your classroom?'
'No, Mrs Sheridan. I he was with you, Burns.'
I my head.
'Those men came to him, Mr Glossop,' said Audrey.
'Undoubtedly the of to which that man the other night belonged! This is preposterous. My nerves will not these outrages. We must have police protection. The must be to justice. I of such a thing! In an English school!'
Glossop's their spectacles. Macbeth's when with Banquo's was by comparison. There was no that Buck's visit had the peace of our happy little to a extent.
The noise in the had than subsided. A of professional returned to Glossop and myself. We the stairs and to do our best, in our styles, to produce order. It was not an easy task. Small boys are always to make a noise, without provocation. When they a like the of men in white masks, who assistant-masters in the small of the with Browning pistols, they to themselves. I we should have them, had it not been that the hour of Buck's visit had to a time of that set for the boys' tea, and that the had the of our visitors' operations. As in many English country houses, the at Sanstead House was at the end of a long corridor, off by doors through which pistol-shots but faintly. Our excellent cook had, moreover, the to be deaf, with the result that, all the and in our part of the house, she, like the lady in Goethe's poem, had gone on and butter; till now, when it that nothing the uproar, there rose above it the of the bell.
If there is anything to keep the Englishman or the English boy from his tea, it has yet to be discovered. The on the instant. The to be that be till a more occasion, but not tea. There was a movement in the direction of the dining-room.
Glossop had already gone with the crowd, and I was about to follow, when there was another ring at the front-door bell.
I that this must be the police, and waited. In the I was by way of being a star witness. If any one had been in the thick of from the it was myself.
White opened the door. I a of uniforms, and came to do the honours.
There were two of them, no more. In response to our urgent for against bandits, the Majesty of the Law had itself in the shape of a and a long, constable. I thought, as I came to meet them, that they were to have late. I see Lefty and the red-moustached man, in their designs on me, making among the official force, as here represented.
White, the once more, us.
'This is Mr Burns, one of the masters at the school,' he said, and himself from the scene. There was a man like White for his place when he played the butler.
The looked at me sharply. The into space.
'H'm!' said the inspector.
Mentally I had named them Bones and Johnson. I do not know why, that they to it.
'You for us,' said Bones accusingly.
'We did.'
'What's the trouble? What—got your notebook?—has been happening?'
Johnson his from the middle and produced a notebook.
'At about past five—' I began.
Johnson his pencil.
'At about past five an up to the door.
In it were five men with revolvers.'
I them. There was no of that. Bones's healthy colour deepened, and his round. Johnson's pencil over the page, with emotion.
'Masked men?' Bones.
'With revolvers,' I said. 'Now aren't you you didn't go to the circus? They the front-door bell; when White opened it, they him with a sand-bag. Then—'
Bones up a large hand.
'Wait!'
I waited.
'Who is White?'
'The butler.'
'I will take his statement. Fetch the butler.'
Johnson off obediently.
Left alone with me, Bones and less official.
'This is as a start as I of, Mr Burns,' he said. 'Twenty years I've been in the force, and nothing like this has transpired. It cock-fighting. What in the world do you men with and was after? First idea I had was that you were making fun of me.'
I was at the idea. I to give details.
'They were a of American who had come over to Mr Elmer Ford's son, who is a at the school. You have of Mr Ford? He is an American millionaire, and there have been the past years to Ogden.'
At this point Johnson returned with White. White told his briefly, his bruise, the marks of the on his wrists, and was dismissed. I that had take place in the presence of Mr Abney, who, I imagined, would have something to say on the of the thing up.
We upstairs. The door of the study us a while and to a fresh of activity on the part of Johnson's pencil. Having of this, we to Mr Abney's room.
Bones's upon the door produced an 'Who's that?' from the occupant. I the nature of the through the and there came from the of moving furniture. His one with Buck had my to against a second by himself in with he for the purpose. It was some moments the way was clear for our entrance.
'Cub id,' said a voice at last.
Mr Abney was up in bed, the about him. His was still disordered. The of the room was in great confusion, and a on the by the dressing-table that he had been prepared to sell his life dearly.
'I ab to see you, Idspector,' he said. 'Bister Burds, what is the of this affair?'
It took some time to to Mr Abney, and more to Bones and his that, so from wanting a and over the and about the in the papers, was the thing we were to avoid. They were visibly when they the position of affairs. The thing, properly advertised, would have been the biggest that had to the neighbourhood, and their see easy reach. Mention of a cold and a of beer, however, to be in the kitchen, to a of on their gloom, and they in search of it with something cheeriness, Johnson taking notes to the last.
They had gone when Glossop into the room in a of agitation.
'Mr Abney, Ogden Ford is to be found!'
Mr Abney the with a sneeze.
'What do you bead?' he demanded, when the was over. He to me. 'Bister Burds, I you to—ah—say that the scou'drels took their without the boy Ford.'
'They did. I them go.'
'I have the house thoroughly,' said Glossop, 'and there are no of him. And not only that, the Boy Beckford cannot be found.'
Mr Abney his in his hands. Poor man, he was in no condition to up with easy against this of shocks. He was like one who, having an earthquake, is by an automobile. He had his mind to the of Mr MacGinnis and friends when he was called upon to this fresh disaster. And he had a cold in the head, which the stoutest. Napoleon would have Waterloo if Wellington had had a cold in the head.
'Augustus Beckford be fou'd?' he feebly.
'They must have away together,' said Glossop.
Mr Abney sat up, galvanized.
'Such a thing has id the before!' he cried. 'It has my—ah—codstant to make my boys look Sadstead House as a happy hobe. I have a of codtedment. I the that Augustus Beckford, one of the boys it has by good to have id by charge, has away.'
'He must have been by that boy Ford,' said Glossop, 'who,' he added morosely, 'I believe, is the in disguise.'
Mr Abney did not the of his language. Probably the him as sound. To me there something in it.
'Subbthig be done at once!' Mr Abney exclaimed. 'It is—ah—ibperative that we take steps. They have gone to Londod. Bister Burds, you go to Londod by the next traid. I go with this cold.'
It was the of that, on the one occasion when that popper-up-to-London to the Metropolis, he should be unable to answer the call.
'Very well,' I said. 'I'll go and look out a train.'
'Bister Glossop, you will be in of the school. Perhaps you had go to the boys dow.'
White was in the when I got there.
'White,' I said, 'do you know anything about the to
London?'
'Are you going to London?' he asked, in his more manner. I he looked at me as he spoke.
'Yes. Ogden Ford and Lord Beckford cannot be found. Mr Abney thinks they must have away to London.'
'I shouldn't wonder,' said White dryly, it to me. There was something odd in his manner. 'And you're going after them.'
'Yes. I must look up a train.'
'There is a fast train in an hour. You will have of time.'
'Will you tell Mr Abney that, while I go and pack my bag? And telephone for a cab.'
'Sure,' said White, nodding.
I up to my room and to put a together in a suit-case. I happy, for reasons. A visit to London, after my at Sanstead, was in the nature of an treat. My tastes are metropolitan, and the of an hour at a music-hall—I should be too late for the theatres—with supper to in some restaurant where there was an orchestra, to me.
When I returned to the hall, my bag, I Audrey there.
'I'm being sent to London,' I announced.
'I know. White told me. Peter, him back.'
'That's why I'm being sent.'
'It means to me.'
I looked at her in surprise. There was a strained, on her face, for which I not account. I to that what to the Little Nugget purely for that youth's own sake. Besides, as he had gone to London willingly, the was that he was himself.
'I don't understand,' I said. 'What do you mean?'
'I'll tell you. Mr Ford sent me here to be near Ogden, to him. He that there was always a of being to him, though he was over to England very quietly. That is how I come to be here. I go Ogden goes. I am for him. And I have failed. If Ogden is not back, Mr Ford will have nothing more to do with me. He failures. It will going to the old work again—the dressmaking, or the waiting, or I can manage to find.' She gave a little shiver. 'Peter, I can't. All the has gone out of me. I'm afraid. I couldn't all that again. Bring him back. You must. You will. Say you will.'
I did not answer. I nothing to say; for it was I who was for all her trouble. I had planned everything. I had Ogden Ford the money that had taken him to London. And soon, unless I London it happened, and prevent him, he, with my Smith, would be in the Dover boat-train on his way to Monaco.
