"Jest lie there till I tell you to get up," he said.
By this time two neighbors—athletic farmers—entered the yard. Frank briefly explained the matter to them, and Mr. Tarbox asked their assistance to secure Sharpley and Craven.
"Let me go, Frank. I'm your step-father," implored Craven. "If that man has attempted your life, I know nothing of it. Blame him; not me."
"Oh, that is your game," said Sharpley, "you cowardly hound! You want to sell me and go scot-free yourself. Then, gentlemen, it becomes my duty to say that this man has no business here. At the time he married this boys mother he had a wife living in London."
"It's a lie!" faltered Craven.
"It's the truth. I saw her two months since, and so did the boy. You remember Mrs. Craven, whom you relieved?"
"Yes," said Frank, in astonishment.
"She is that man's wife."
"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Frank. "Then my mother is free."
"Moreover, he hired me to carry you abroad, with the understanding that you should not return, in order that he might enjoy your fortune."