CHAPTER XX.
THE HARKAWAYS LEARN ALL—MR. MOLE EXPLAINS AND GETS INTO
TROUBLE IN CONSEQUENCE.
Words cannot describe the trouble of the Harkaway family at the loss of young Jack and his stout-hearted comrade, Harry Girdwood.
At first their indignation had been so great, that their first impulse was to use violent means to effect the recovery of the boys.
But the first person to oppose this was Jack Harkaway himself.
"If we were to attack them in force," he said, "it would be imprudent upon every hand. In the first place they would have the advantage of us, of course, in a mountain skirmish."
"I don't know that they would get the best of it," said Harvey.
"Nor I," said Jefferson.
"We can do nothing at present as far as I can see," said Harkaway. "Only wait."
"To what end?"
"Their object must be plunder—money—ransom."
"Supposing that they demand a sum?"
"I shall pay it as soon as ever I can rake it up. If it is more than I possess in the world," said Jack Harkaway, seriously, "then I shall borrow of my friends to make it up."
The poor fellow turned away to hide his emotion.
"What guarantee have you that they would give up the boys for the ransom?"
"None. But I should not send the money first. They would have to send the boys here first."
"They might doubt you."
"Why, yes. But Hunston and Toro are with them, and they know that Jack Harkaway's word is his bond, no matter with whom he is dealing, let them be the veriest scum on the face of the earth."
"Which they are."
"Which they are, as you say."
"Very good," said Jefferson. "Now I don't want to play the part of the wet blanket, and to dash your hopes to the ground before they are half formed, but I wish to guard against running away upon a false track."
"In what way?"
"All your hopes of ransoming the boys rest now upon the fact of Hunston and Toro being with the brigands."
"Yes."
"Well," added Jefferson, "how do you know that Hunston and Toro are really in the band? You only suppose that."
"I can answer positively for that," said a voice at the door.
They turned.
There stood Nabley, the detective.
"Nabley!"
"Nabley here!"
"Himself," said the indefatigable officer, coming forward. "Hunston is with the brigands, very much with them, in fact."
"That we know," said Harkaway, who then related the death of Pike, and the supposed abduction of young Jack.
"I have been very ill," said Nabley. "I fainted in the street, and, in falling, severely injured my head. But do you know how that Hunston finds out all about you and your doings?"
"No."
"Well, it is through one of your own household."
"Explain," said Harkaway.
"What do you mean?" asked Harvey.
"I can't talk much; Mr. Mole will tell you perhaps better. Here, Mr. Mole."
Mr. Mole stepped forward, looking just a little sheepish.
"Mr. Mole!"
"Mr. Mole!" exclaimed a dozen voices in chorus.
"Yes, my friends," said the old gentleman, stepping forward with his well-known modesty, "it is even so; your much-wronged Mole."
"Tell us how it occurred," said Harkaway.
"I was down in the dancing garden, seated in a species of small summer house, taking a glass of—I mean a cup of tea—ahem!—when I fell asleep—I dozed, in fact."
"You would," said Harvey. "I've often noticed that you doze after a glass of—I mean a cup of tea."
Mole glared at the speaker.
"The heat of the day quite overcame me."
"It would," said Dick, in the same compassionate manner.
"When I woke up, I heard two persons conversing close by the green arbour where I sat."
"Yes."
"Two familiar voices."
"Ha!" exclaimed Harkaway, eagerly.
"Now guess," said Mole, "who the two familiar voices belonged to?"
"Can't."
"Out with it."
"One of the voices," said Mr. Mole, "was Hunston's, the other was—"
"Toro's?"
"No."
"No! Whose then?"
"Marietta's."
"Marietta—what, the maid here?"
"Yes."
"Impossible."
"Was it, egad? I thought so, but I am not easily mistaken."
"Unless you dreamt."
"Bah!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, with ineffable contempt; "fiddlesticks!"
"But did you suppose she was in league with Hunston?" demanded Emily with great eagerness.
"No."
"What then?"
"He was bamboozling her, twisting her round his finger, as one might say. He had got up a casual chat, persuading her that he was a private friend of yours, so he pumped and pumped her about the boys, where they went, and so forth."
"And did she say any thing that could serve him in his vile purpose?" asked Mrs. Harkaway.
"Plenty to help them, the miscreants, I suppose."
"The girl must be a downright idiot to get into conversation with a strange man after all that has taken place, and after all the danger which she knows they ran."
"Not far short of it," said Jefferson.
"He spoke particularly about the boys not venturing out to the mountains, that they were permitted only to sail about in their boat, and—"
Harkaway broke in here with an exclamation that startled them all.
"That explains all," he said. "All, all, I see it now."
"Do you? Explain."
"They have put out to sea and taken the boys, perhaps by stealth, perhaps by violence."
"Likely enough."
"Poor boys, poor boys!"
"And where did all this take place?" demanded Jefferson; "in one of the public promenades, did you say?"
"Mr. Jefferson," replied old Mole saucily, "you want your nose filed. I said in the dancing garden."
"Oh, de dancing garden, was it, Massa Ikey?" said a voice in his ear, which caused him to palpitate nervously.
It was Mrs. Mole.
When he had spoken of the dancing garden, he had not noticed his better half's presence.
"Yes, my dear," he said timidly, trying to look dignified the while before the company.
"And what was you—doing in such a place as a dancing garding, Mister Mole, sar?" demanded his dusky rib, in a voice which sounded dangerous.
"I went, my dear, to study character," said Mr. Mole timidly....
"What?" thundered Mrs. Mole.
He trembled, and faltered something almost inaudibly.
"Studyin' character," said the lady with great contempt; "losing your character, you silly old pump—"
"My dear," remonstrated the old gentleman.
"Don't 'my dear' me," said Mrs. Mole; "you're gwine off your silly old cokernut, you bald-headed old coon."
"Mrs. Mole!"
"You go to dat dancin' garding for to see dem gals jump about and dance and make fools ob demselves, ignorant critters."
"No such thing, I tell you," said Mole, indignantly.
"Oh, yes, it is," said his better half, "and you's a bushel more indelicate dan dey is, you silly old possum."
This started the company off generally in a noisy fit of laughter, before which poor Mole was forced to beat a retreat, followed by his irate partner.
"Poor Mole," said Jefferson, laughing heartily, "it is an unlucky admission for him. Chloe will give it to him sorely for this, I'm afraid."
* * * * *
They went deeply into the question of ransoming the boys, for they were convinced that they had really fallen into the hands of the brigands.
But do what they would, say what they would, they could only come back to one result.
They must wait.
Patience was difficult under the circumstances, but there was no help for it.
"Wait till to-morrow," said Jefferson; "it is a hard job, I know, but I feel certain that if the boys are with the brigands, to-morrow morning will bring a message from them."
"But can nothing be done meanwhile?" said Emily.
"No."
"Nothing."
"Stay; you may get some papers printed and circulated everywhere, offering a heavy reward for the recovery of the boys."
"To what end?"
"It can do no harm, and may do good. At any rate, it will show the brigands that we are ready to pay the piper for our boys' sake."
"That's true," said Jefferson.
"Let's do it," said Harkaway, who was pacing up and down impatiently; "at any rate, any thing is better than remaining inactive."