As soon as Blinky Bill recognised his visitor, he was delighted.
“You here,” he said, “Ha, ha, revenge is mine! I'll get a tidy reward
for taking you back, my young shaver.”
Then from the unresisting child he took a gold watch and three
sovereigns. These he said he would put in a safe place for him, till he
was going home again. He expected to get at least a tenner ready money
for bringing Algy back, and hoped that he might be allowed to keep the
watch into the bargain.
With a light heart he went down town with Algy's watch and sovereigns in
his pocket. He did not return till daylight, when he awoke his wife with
bad news.
“Can't give the boy up,” he said. “I moskenoed his block and tackle, and
blued it in the school.” In other words, he had pawned the boy's watch
and chain, and had lost the proceeds at pitch and toss.
“Nothing for it but to move,” he said, “and take the kid with us.”
So move they did.
The reader can imagine with what frantic anxiety the father and mother
of little Algy sought for their lost one. They put the matter into the
hands of the detective police, and waited for the Sherlock Holmeses of
the force to get in their fine work. There was nothing doing.
Years rolled on, and the mysterious disappearance of little Algy was yet
unsolved. The horse-dealer's revenge was complete.
The boy's mother consulted a clairvoyant, who murmured mystically “What
went by the ponies, will come by the ponies;” and with that they had to
remain satisfied.