"Why, bless me!" said the man, "you must be the very children who are being advertised for all over London. Come, I'll see about this; I'll soon put the matter straight for you."
The man tried to take Christian's hand, but she moved away from him.
"I—I am frightened," she said. "Is it true—is it—that the police can lock us up?"
"Dear me!" said the man, with a laugh. "Whoever heard of such a thing? No; of course it isn't true. You trust me and I'll see you safe back to wherever you came from. Come along into the house. There's my mother; she and I always live in the yard, for it's wonderful how folks do manage to creep into a builder's yard and steal things. Come along, little ladies. She'll give you both a cup of tea. Oh, dear, this is a find!"
As the man spoke Christian lost all fear of him, and even Rose looked happy and comforted. So they followed him into a very little house, where an old woman was bustling about.
"Well, Albert," she said, at the sight of the tall man, "and what is the news now?"
"Rare good news for us, mother," was his answer. "Didn't I tell you that we'd just get that money in the nick of time? And here it is, mother. Here are the little hostages who will get us over our difficulty."
As he spoke he drew Christian and Rose forward.
"The missing children," he said. "And when you have given them a cup of hot tea each, and a bit of your celebrated hot toast, I'll take them home. Make the tea strong, mother, for it's my belief the poor creatures have been drugged."