The door opened a trifle, after the second knock, and a voice whispered some word which Chet could not understand. Instantly Margit hissed a reply—it was in Romany.
The door opened a bit wider. Somebody inside saw the girl; but Chet was seen, too.
“What did Ah tell ’ee?” demanded Jim Varey’s gruff voice. “This is a business tae bring trouble tae us, says I—and I was right.”
Before he had ceased speaking the policeman sprang forward and with knee and shoulder forced the door wide open. He had drawn his club.
“Keep still—all you here! If you give me trouble I’ll arrest all of you instead of this man and his wife,” and he seized Jim by the shoulder.
“Where’s the girl?” cried Chet. “Eve! Eve Sitz! Are you here?”
There was an answering cry from back in some other room. Margit darted past the struggling people in the kitchen and opened a door beyond.
“Here I am!” cried Eve Sitz.
The country girl was tied to a chair, but not tightly enough to cramp her limbs. Nor had she been really ill-treated.
“Run down,” said the officer to Chet, “and blow this whistle. Tell my partner, when he comes, to send for the wagon. We’ll give these folks a ride.”