"It's my move," said George. "Don't you worry."
When the buxom landlady returned with an equally buxom spouse, George had wriggled away from his captors, and was crouching in a corner.
"Want Moggles," he said, in a whining voice.
"There!" cried the landlady turning to her husband, who stood with open mouth, scratching his head. "Did you hear that?"
"It's his play," said Gray. "Come along,"—turning to the others. "We'd better see about getting him away."
"Erny good boy," said George.
"There!" cried the landlady again. "Now don't you think I'm right?"
The landlord nodded his head sagely.
"Blamed if I don't, too!"
"Come along," said Gray; "get his hat and coat. We must make a start."