“March yees blackguards, march,” said Smith, pushing the men along.
“How very rude! I have never had anything so scurrilous said to me before in my life.”
“He wasn’t a real lord, Auntie. Only tried to act like one, eh, I guess so,” and Sam inwardly chuckled at the balm he offered for her discomfiture.
“Sam, you had better assist the officers to the railway station,” suggested Mr. Harris.
“Oh, quite to my fancy, Uncle!” and Sam immediately proceeded after the detectives and their prisoners.
The silence that fell on the group as they watched the prisoners move down the hill was broken by Hazel, who, turning to Mr. Harris, said: “It was clever of Sam. Indeed, Uncle, it seems to him is due the honor of breaking the spell of a pretender.”
“I am satisfied now that my lord will serve a ‘spell’ with his partner in the state penitentiary,” replied Mr. Harris.
“A fate that deservedly overtakes adventurers and imposters,” remarked Mrs. Harris.
“And a most pungent warning to the frantic race society runs to entertain titled swindlers!” added Mr. Harris, gravely.
At that moment Sam hurriedly reappeared and approached Mr. Harris, who hastened to meet him. “What is wrong, Sam?” “Has he got away?” was the anxious inquiry.