“I am going to telephone to the police, and give this fellow in charge as a common housebreaker. If he has been in prison before, let him have another taste of it.”
“Wilton!” In the shock of this move she was wordless.
“With the man in gaol, your story may be believed.” He closed the door behind him. She ran to it and listened. He was having the usual midnight trouble in waking Central. There was only one thing to do; she must get the prince out of the house before stupid, gossiping Roseborough forced him either to declare his identity or go to gaol! If he revealed his name here, he could no longer masquerade as a vagabond and roam the world at will. He would be forced back to his palatial prison in Woodseweedsetisky. It was still dark outside. There was a bare chance that he might elude the black-whiskered secret service, if he could only slip out of the house undetected.
Central still refused to answer.
“Oh, sleep, sleep, Maria Potts!” she invoked. She ran half way up the stairs, calling softly, “Prince Run-away.”
“What is it, Madam Make-Believe?” She caught his hand in hers and made him run down the stairs, chattering confusedly to him the while.
“You must get away, for both our sakes. There isn’t time to explain.”
“I don’t understand. Has anything occurred to...?”
“No time to tell you. Things have happened. Oh! how things have happened! You must go—go—and be free.”
“All right. I’ll ‘go—go—and be free;’ but I’ll come back to-morrow and hear all about it.”