A CONSPIRACY OVERHEARD
“Well,” said the stranger, “’ave yer fixed it up?”
“Yes,” said Black Bill. “Crale, or Ogden as he calls himself now, will
be at the cross-roads at 12.30. I had a talk with him this evening.”
The Cubs looked at each other. Mr. Ogden? What could it mean? They had
come out to find Danny, but apparently they had got on the track of a
bigger mystery than they had bargained for.
“We can turn into the wood,” said Black Bill, “and have our little talk
with him there. I don’t reckon that it’ll take very long.” He grinned,
showing a row of cruel-looking teeth.
“How did you get him to agree to come?” said the foxy-faced stranger.
Black Bill laughed. “I told him,” he said, “that you and I were the
only ones left of the old gang. That we were working hard for our
living, now, and we didn’t see why he should swank it as a blooming
squire, when we helped him make the money he bunked to America with. I
said if he refused to meet us, and talk the matter over, I would make
known the whole story to the public, and bring disgrace on his name,
and show every one that he is not an honest English gentleman, but a
forger, who made off with the swag, letting an innocent man suffer
imprisonment for him.
“I told him I had a way of making his story known, without bringing
suspicion on myself; and I said now we’d found him again, we weren’t
going to let him go.”
The Cubs, listening with all their ears, could not make head or tail of
all this, for they did not know the story the tramp had told Danny. All
they knew was that Mr. Ogden, the twin’s grandfather, was having a plot
made against him--an extraordinary plot they could not understand. It
was their duty to save him.
“And what is yer goin’ to say to ’im to-night?” asked the man.
“I’m going to tell him that now he’s back, and has got plenty of
money, we can start the gang again, with me as boss and him as one
of the partners--the partner what provides the money! I’ve drawn up
this statement” (and here Black Bill produced a paper), “and I’m going
to say if he doesn’t sign it, and keep to it, we will make his story
known. Then, I’ll make him write a big cheque, as a start off!”
The foxy-faced man rubbed his hands together and chuckled.
What _could_ it mean? The Cubs were sorely puzzled. Then Black Bill
said something which made them prick up their ears.
“As to that Scout I caught the other night, I made Ogden agree to leave
off the search for him. I’ve got him safe, and, whatever happens, he
mustn’t escape.”
“Well,” said the stranger, “strikes me we’d better be getting a move
on, if we are to be at the cross-roads before 12.30.”
The two men rose, and the Cubs lay flat on the pile of damp hay.
They heard them go out and slam the door; and their footsteps sounded
on the cobbled path outside the shed.
“Now,” said Hugh, “what on earth are we to do next?”
“I can’t understand it all,” answered David, “but if grandfather really
has something funny about his past, we had better not tell the police
about this meeting at the cross-roads. And yet I hate the thought of
him meeting Black Bill alone. You don’t know what he might do.”
“I’ve got an idea!” said Hugh suddenly. “Let’s rush back and get the
bike, and get there before them, and go and tell the whole thing to the
Tramp. He would be sure to know what to do. And he would come with us
and hear what they all say in the wood.”
“Good idea!” said David; and, with all haste, the Cubs set out for the
place where the bicycle lay concealed.
[Illustration: Unmistakably it was Black Bill and the stranger.
[_To face page 97._
]