CHAPTER XXVIITHE FINDING OF MARIETTE
Inspector Grey’s car once more hummed along the dusty road, but this time it contained, besides the two constables, Danny and the Mysterious Tramp.
The gipsy camp was still at Bradmead, but the swings were all folded up, the big tent was down, there was no monotonous music from the merry-go-round. The whole camp was under arrest. Black Bill’s sons and all the men-folk had been taken into custody. Six stalwart policemen were on guard, keeping an eye on the women and children.
Going up to the yellow caravan, Inspector Grey beat a sharp rat-tat on the door. A hideous old woman put out her head and said: “Whaat-cher waant?” But when she saw the police she became polite and whiny-piny. Inspector Grey ordered her to get out of the caravan. She wouldn’t at first, and said: “It wasn’t no place fit for a nice gentleman like him to go in.” So the stalwart policeman chivalrously handed her out and the Inspector entered.
Presently he reappeared at the top of the steps, holding by the hand a pale little girl in a tattered brown dress and a shock of uncombed golden hair.
A cry of joy broke from the Tramp.
“Mariette!”
He stood with open arms at the bottom of the yellow steps.
For a moment she looked at him with wide grey eyes. Then recognition began to dawn in them. “It’s—my—daddy!” she cried, and jumped down into his arms.
Inspector Grey looked the other way, and the policeman blew his nose—he was a family man himself.
The morning sun filled the big library, and shone on the musty old leather-backed books, the mahogany table, and quaint dog-irons in thefireplace.
Very silent and wide-eyed, David, Bill and Nipper sat on three big leather chairs. The Mysterious Tramp (now clad in a grey flannel suit, his arm in a black silk sling) sat in a deep armchair; and on the hearthrug stood Mr. Ogden, his face set and pale, his knobbly hands working nervously.
“Boys,” he said, “my grandsons; Mr. Graham—I have something to say to you of a very grave nature. It is difficult to say—let us get it over quickly.
“In the past I was guilty of a very terrible crime. To cover my own guilt and to escape its just punishment, I played a horrible trick upon an innocent man, by which he was accused of my crime. He suffered the seven years’ imprisonment that was my desert. He lost the little daughter whom he loved. He lost all. His career wasruined. He was turned out into the world—a tramp.
“And I? I lived here in luxury—luxury bought at his expense. Did my luxury make me happy? No. The canker of remorse was eating into my heart.
“Then came a memorable night when the man I had wronged saw me in the power of my enemies, saw his wrong about to be avenged. But he had forgiven me. He did that which is the highest sign of love which one man can give another—he risked his life to save mine.
“What can I do to repay him for all he has unjustly suffered? I can only give himall I have—this house, my wealth. You, my grandsons, I have entrusted to his care. He is your guardian. Obey him as if he was your father. And what is to happen to me? Many years of prison are due to me. I cannot look any man in the face until I have paid my debt to justice.
“To-day I go to London to await my trial. I shall go to prison. If I ever come out alive I shall have to depend on the charity of the man I have wronged. Good-bye, my children, good-bye. Remember what I have told you. If you ever sin against man and against God confess your sin and bear your punishment, or life will hold only bitterness for you, and death only fear. Pray for me sometimes, and be good sons to this man.”
Very stiffly, he gave each boy a kiss, shook hands with the Tramp and, turning, strode out of the room.
There was a whir and buzz, and Inspector Grey’s car moved away down the drive.
Luncheon was a rather silent meal. Mariette did most of the talking; and there was one fairly animated argument between her and Nipper, as to which end you should cut a cucumber.
“Look here, we really must cheer up,” said the Tramp, as they rose from the table and walked out into the hall. “Well, kiddies, what do you think of your new father?”
“We are jolly glad!” said Bill. “Shall wecallyou Father?”
“You sha’n’t call himDaddy,” said Mariette quickly.
“Yes, you can call me Father, if you like,” said the Tramp, laughing.
“And we’ve got asister, now!” said David.
“Yes,” said Mariette shyly. She had a marked preference for David, who protected her from Nipper.
“And Danny can be our big brother,” said Bill, who hadn’t much use for girls.
“All we want now,” said Nipper, “is a mother.” Then a bright idea struck him. “Miss Prince can be our mother!” he cried.
Danny kicked him, and told him in a whisper to shut up, but Nipper didn’t see why he should shut up over such a splendid idea.
“But shecanbe our mother, can’t she?” he said, appealing to the Tramp.
“Yes, yes!” cried the others altogether—even Mariette, who had already found in Miss Prince the mother’s tenderness she had never known.
“Canshe be our mother? Say yes, say yes!”pleaded Nipper, clinging to the Tramp’s hand.
“Don’t be so previous, Nipper,” said the Tramp. “I was only waiting for all you chaps to clear out, to ask Miss Prince that myself. Come,” he said, stretching out his free hand towards her, “let’s go out into the garden and hide our blushes—this is too painful!”
As they went out of the French window Nipper caught hold of Miss Prince’s hand.
“Say yes,” he whispered—“to please me.”
“All right,” whispered back Miss Prince.
And that is how the three naughty boys at the Hall became three good boys, and obtained a father, a mother, a sister, and best of all, a big brother—Danny, the Detective.
THE END.
Printed in Great Britain byButler & Tanner,Frome and London