“Sure enough, where is he?” ejaculated Tom.
“Wasn’t he securely tied?”
“Yes,” answered Grant. “I tied him myself. He couldn’t have got away without hands.”
“I tell you what, Grant,” said Tom Cooper suddenly, “that scoundrel’s stolen him!”
“What scoundrel? Whom do you mean?” demanded the father.
“That tramp—Silverthorn.”
“Why, he’s gone, too!”
“Yes, and has stolen Dobbin to help him on his way. I’d like to get hold of the rascal!” And stern resolution glittered in the eyes of the young man.
“But I don’t understand it.”
“It’s easy enough to understand. The man’s a humbug. All his story was made up to impose upon us.”