"See his rent!" screamed Mrs. Peters, the woman who had been spoken to. "You know as well as I do that it was paid in full by that queer girl what came here yesterday. If there are any spoils in that there room, we'll share with you, Mrs. Carter."
The excitement which this remark caused was really good for the children, for it so distracted Mrs. Carter's attention, and so fierce was the quarreling which ensued, that they were absolutely forgotten. They walked on silently for some little time. Rosy's heart beat hard, but Christian felt herself more like Joan of Arc than ever.
"We must try and get home," she said. "We have plenty of money, and I shall ask the police the best way to Russell Square."
Rose clutched her hand.
"Don't, Christian, don't!" she cried. "You mustn't. I don't care; I am frightened. That story may be true or it mayn't. S'pose it is true; s'pose they're angry; and—Oh, dear! oh, dear! Look, Christian—look!"
She pulled Christian forward. They were just passing a police-station, and there, pasted to the walls of the front of the house in very large letters, was an exact description of themselves:
"Missing.—A tall girl of about thirteen, with long, fair hair; and a shorter girl with dark, curly hair."
A long description followed, giving, item for item, all particulars with regard to the children. The tall girl wore a dark-blue serge dress and jacket, and the small girl was in red. A "substantial reward" was offered for the recovery of these two girls.
When Christian read this very startling description she felt the courage oozing out of her finger-tips.
"I suppose that awful woman is right. She must be right when the police are looking for us. This notice is outside a police-station. What is to be done?"