"And the police are informed? These villains will be arrested?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, Uncle," said Pratt, and was again interrupted.
"You did not? Then I am afraid you and your companions have tumbled into a hornets' nest, young man. As we are to have apparently a few minutes' leisure, I think you had better put me wise, as our American friends say, about the essential facts of the situation. How many do you muster?"
Pratt, in the exalted mood of a rescuer, and himself bursting with questions, was a little dashed by his uncle's cool matter-of-fact manner.
"There are three of us," he said. "We got in through the tunnel, and found one man below at the printing press."
"A printing press! Indeed! What literature are my guardians disseminating?"
"Forged notes."
"Forgers!" ejaculated Mr. Pratt, for the first time showing signs of agitation. "Things are worse than I dreamed. You are sure of what you say?"
"Absolutely. We found the watermarked paper."
"The scoundrels! You had better get away. If these fellows are an international gang of forgers they will have no scruples. The lives of you and your companions are not worth a rap. Leave me. Get away while there is time. Inform the police and leave matters in their hands."