“You’ve been reading that damned book, too, have you?” he whispered hoarsely in his son’s ear. “You’ve gone crazy like everybody else, have you?”
“I’ve been kidnapped, if that’s what you mean,” Billy answered with a meaningful glance over his shoulder, and then with a fine attempt at bravado: “I’m Friar Tuck, and that chap smoking a pipe is Robin Hood.”
Ordinarily his father’s sense of humor could be trusted to respond to an intelligent appeal. A slow grin had overspread Mr. Deering’s face as Friar Tuck was mentioned, but when Billy added Robin Hood his father’s countenance underwent changes indicative of hope, fear, and chagrin. Clinging to Billy’s shoulder, he peered through the gloom of the cage toward Hood, who lay on a bench, his coat rolled up for a pillow, tranquilly smoking, with his eyes fixed upon the steel roof.
“Hood!” Mr. Deering walked slowly toward Hood’s bench.
Hood sat up, took his pipe from his mouth, and nodded.
“Hood, this is my father,” said Billy.
“A great pleasure, I’m sure,” Hood responded courteously, extending his hand. “I suppose it was inevitable that we should meet sooner or later, Mr. Deering.”
“You—you are Bob—Bob—Tyringham?” asked Deering anxiously.
“Right!” cried Hood in his usual assured manner. “And I will say for you that you have given me a good chase. I confess that I didn’t think you capable of it; I swear I didn’t! Tuck, I congratulate you; your father is one of the true brotherhood of the stars. He’s been chasing me for a month and, by Jove, he’s kept me guessing! But when I heard that he’d been jailed for speeding, with a prospect of spending Sunday in this hole, I decided that it was time to throw down the mask.”
Lights began to dance in the remote recesses of Billy’s mind. Hood was Robert Tyringham, for whom his father held as trustee two million dollars. Tyringham had not been heard of in years. The only son of a most practical father, he had been from youth a victim of the wanderlust, absenting himself from home for long periods. For ten years he had been on the list of the missing. That Hood should be this man was unbelievable. But the senior Deering seemed not to question his identity. He sat down with a deep sigh and then began to laugh.