But that was not to be the end of it. They were on their way to the roast-pig booth where cooked meat could be had hot from the fire, when a young Londoner came toward them.
“You are the lad who saved my uncle’s purse for him,” he said in a relieved tone. “I thought I had lost you in the crowd. Here is a fairing for you,” and he slipped a silver groat into Barty’s hand.
“Now, that is more like a Christian,” observed Aunt Olive. But Barty was meditating about something, and he was rather silent all through dinner. Besides the hot roast, they bought bread, and Barty had his new “Bartlemy knife” with which to cut his slice of the roast. A costard-monger sold them apples, and the seeds were carefully saved for planting at home. Then they must all see a show, and they crowded into a tent and saw a play acted by wooden marionettes in a toy theater, like a Punch and Judy. In the Cloth Fair the farmer bought fine Flemish cloth for the mother, dyed a beautiful blue, and red cloth for a cloak for Hilda. While Aunt Olive was helping to choose this Barty slipped across the way and looked for Vanni. He had heard Vanni tell the men that the thief’s name was Conrad Waibling. Rascals were a new thing in Barty’s experience. There was nobody in the village at home who would deliberately hem in a man by a crowd and then rob him. Barty was sure that the man with the performing bear was in it as well.
“Vanni,” he said, “you know that thief that they caught?”
Vanni nodded.
“Do you think that the man with the dancing bear was a friend of his?”
“I know he was,” said Vanni grimly. “He escaped.”
Barty hesitated. “What do you think they will do to the one that they caught?”
“He will be punished,” answered Vanni coolly. “He is a poisoner. He has sold poisoned spices—for pay. I think he failed, and did not poison anybody, so that he has had to get his living where he could. He is finished now—ended—no more.”
Barty felt rather cold. Vanni was so matter-of-fact about it. The Italian boy saw the look on his face.