"What's the lad done?" he asked in a low tone.
"Broke into an old woman's shop, rifled the till, and well-nigh did for her, sir," was the reply. "He's a dangerous chap, seeing he's not turned seventeen. Did he give you any trouble, sir?"
"None whatever, Constable."
"That's strange, sir."
"When a fellow's sea-sick there's the bottom knocked out of the universe as far as he's concerned," remarked the Scoutmaster drily.
The second constable had meanwhile sauntered for'ard, keeping the still unresisting but now restless Gregory between him and the bows of the Olivette. At a sign from his companion the policeman laid his hand on the wanted lad's shoulder.
"Come on, Greening," he exclaimed. "This is the end of your little stunt. Come quietly now, or there'll be more trouble."
"What for?" demanded the youth with sudden energy. "My name's not Greening—it's Gregory, and I ain't done nothin'!"
"And half a dozen other aliases, I suppose?" rejoined his captor caustically. "It won't wash, Greening, so chuck it."
The boy appealed wildly to Mr. Armitage.