“Where was he before?”
“Oh—different places.” The cross-examination was growing too searching. “Judy, I don’t want you to ask me questions, dear.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Earle,” was the quick response.
“It isn’t my secret, but your mother’s. I am telling you without her leave, and she may be worried when she knows. I want you to promise to ask no questions—to try not to be curious, even though it’s hard, about what really doesn’t concern you two or me. We are only acting as agents, and it isn’t our business. And don’t ask your mother anything when she is better. It is a matter to be silent about—on the honour of the Band.”
“Cross-our-hearts!” they said in chorus—a touch of awe on their young faces.
“That’s all right, then. Just look upon it that you’re doing a good turn and helping a lame dog over a stile—and, of course, one doesn’t talk of that sort of thing afterwards.”
“Rather not!” Jack said. “We’re never to speak of it again, ’cept when we three are together.”
“And very little then,” I said. “I’m going to forget all about it from the minute I come home to-night.”
“I don’t s’pose we could do that, because it’s the biggest adventure we’ve ever had in the world, and we’re awfully obliged to you for giving it to us—aren’t we, Ju? But it’s a deadly secret for ever and ever. Will Mr. Smith know who we are?”
“He may. But he is rather down on his luck, and I don’t think he will want to talk.”