CHAPTER XXIVBLACK 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’llhaveto 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.”