One of the policemen rattled the door.
“It’s locked,” he announced, “and nobody answers. Give me your night stick, partner.”
The sound of splintering wood announced that the door was open. The center panel, with Emily Grimshaw’s unique knocker, fell to the floor and revealed the face of Jasper Crosby, white as a ghost. Judy lay limp at his feet.
“He’s choked her!” Peter said between set teeth.
Before Jasper had time to turn his head he had him by the collar. One of the policemen clapped handcuffs over his wrists. The other two jerked him to a corner while Peter lifted Judy gently in his arms and placed her on the sofa.
“Brave little girl,” he whispered and kissed her closed eyes.
She opened them, hardly believing that this was the same boy who had shared so many adventures with her. She had imagined Arthur kissing her—sometime when they grew older—but not Peter.
“I’m always needing someone to rescue me,” she said, trying to laugh.
“And doesn’t it make any difference who it is?” he asked.
“Yes, a little,” she returned lightly. “I called you, didn’t I?”