Mr. Warden gave him a shilling, saying it was all right. But it wasn’t. When we reached our station, and began to walk to the Lodge, as Bob was not there to meet us, every person we met turned and followed us, until there was quite a mob at our heels when we crossed the green. We didn’t know then that Mr. Banks, our policeman, had all the negroes, including Prince John, locked up in his tiny police-station. Jack and several men from the Manor were helping him to mount guard over them until more policemen arrived, as the Dale-enders wanted to lynch the black men, which would have been a sad job for everybody.
Our escort blocked the road in front of our gate, but they did not venture to come inside the grounds. Dan was the first to hear the noise, and he barked. Then he caught my step on the gravel, and Mam will never again say that a dog can’t speak, for he told her quite plainly that I was coming.
Well, you can guess all the crying and kissing that went on, and how Dad tried to be angry while he took me in his arms, but Mr. Warden spoke about the telegram, and declared he would write to the Times and the Postmaster General. Tib climbed up on my shoulder, and Rikki gave my hand such a queer little lick, while Poll did several lightning twists on the cross-bar, and whistled “Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey.” I heard dear Bob neighing in the stable, and I went to kiss his velvety nose the first minute I could spare.
Mr. Schwartz was really as delighted as anybody that I had turned up, so he failed to notice how cool Mr. Warden was when Dad introduced them. I had hardly got my hat and jacket off, and was hugging Mam for the tenth time, when Dad called me into the morning-room, where he and Schwartz and Mr. Warden were standing.
Solicitors can be very sharp if they like, and our lawyer surprised me with the way he tackled Schwartz.
“My young friend here,” he said, meaning me, “tells me she has promised to restore to you a certain article known as a ju-ju, which you lost on Christmas Eve.”
“Yes,” said Schwartz, quite calmly. You see, he was a smart man of business, and I suppose he was not afraid of lawyers, or he would not have been able to keep all the money he was worth.
“Well,” went on Mr. Warden, “she is prepared to hand it to you in return for your quittance of her father’s obligation to find you one thousand shares in the Kwantu Mines, Limited.”
That staggered Schwartz somewhat, but he said, in a husky voice: “I fail to understand you.”
“That is a pity. I wish to avoid a scandal. If you compel candor I shall be obliged to tell you who is the real owner of that property, and the law of England punishes fraudulent conspiracy very heavily. The links in the chain are quite complete; they even include our possession of a letter to you from a certain firm of brokers stating that they had failed to discover the genuine proprietors of the company.”