BLACK BILL IS QUESTIONED
The next to wake was Bill. He also wondered what was up, and waking
David, made inquiries. It was jolly hard to make head or tail of his
twin’s story, and Bill wondered if he was by accident telling his
dream, instead of yesterday’s adventure. But as Hugh seemed to have had
the same dream, this could not be the case.
Dressing quickly the boys decided to go down and look for the
Mysterious Tramp, who had promised Mr. Ogden that he would remain at
the Hall. Walking noiselessly on the thick carpet which covered the
stairs, the boys heard Mr. Ogden’s voice in the hall, and stopped.
“The old chap’s up early,” said Bill. “It is only just eight. I wonder
what’s up.”
“Hullo, hullo! Is that 846?” said Mr. Ogden’s voice.
“He’s ’phoning,” whispered David.
“Hullo! Will you please take an important message for Inspector Grey?”
A long message followed, all about Inspector Grey coming himself as
soon as possible, with some constables.
Then Mr. Ogden retired to his study and locked the door.
The Cubs found the Mysterious Tramp on the terrace, having a very
serious pow-wow with Miss Prince. He stayed to breakfast with them, but
was very silent, and not a bit funny--which was disappointing.
“When are you going to make Black Bill say where Danny is?” asked David.
“If he won’t say, will you use torture?” inquired Bill the practical.
“Yes, yes!” burst in David, the imaginative; “you could make a lovely
thumb-screw with my fretwork vice. But I think slow roasting would be
best. If you lit the stove in the billiard-room you could make him sit
on it till it got hotter and hotter and hotter, like----”
“No,” said the Tramp thoughtfully, looking reprovingly at Miss Prince,
who was apparently choking over her buttered toast, “I don’t think we
shall need to use torture. Black Bill will find it best to plead guilty
of everything, and clear up all the mysteries.”
“D’you s’pose he’s fool enough to tell the truth?” asked Bill. “I tell
you it’ll _have_ to be torture.”
It was soon after breakfast that a long, grey car arrived, bringing the
Inspector, a wiry little man in plain clothes and two constables. It
was closely followed by a closed car, containing two more constables.
“What a lot of coppers they want to settle two gipsies,” remarked Hugh.
“My father can deal with three poachers, single-handed.”
The first thing that took place was the cross-questioning of Black
Bill. As the Tramp had said, he didn’t try to justify himself. He
said Danny had been prying into his private concerns, and he owned
up that he had kidnapped him. He explained exactly where he might be
found--namely, in the disused water-mill. He only hoped he had not
tried to escape out of the window, and fallen into the river, and got
sucked under the wheel.
An expedition hurried off to the mill, to return an hour after with the
sad news that Danny was not in the mill, but that there were signs of
the room having been recently occupied, and the window overlooking the
river being open.
Next came a question asked by Mr. Ogden, while the Tramp listened,
holding his breath, a look of intense expectation in his eyes.
“The little gell? Oh, poor little Mariette,” said Black Bill. “I’m
sorry to say she died soon after Mr. Crale handed her over to me.
Fretting for her father must have did it. I know I took good enough
care of her, and my old woman tended her as if she had been her own
kid.”
The Tramp seemed to crumple up. He took no more interest in the rest
of the proceedings. He would have gone out, but Mr. Ogden asked him to
remain.
When, at last, the business was over, two constables led the gipsies
away to the waiting car. Mr. Ogden was accompanied to his study by a
policeman, who remained with him, and the Inspector went away in his
car.
The Tramp strode quickly out across the garden. As he passed the
terrace Miss Prince jumped up as if to ask a question.
“She’s dead,” said the Tramp, in a cold, dry voice, and walked quickly
on.
“Why,” said David, later, “is Miss Prince crying on the terrace?”
“Don’t ask me,” said Bill. “I can’t stand crying women.”