On the other hand Uncle Garge Gregory, a well-known local smack-owner, was emphatic that the lad was his nephew and that he certainly was not at Portland a week ago, because his sister had mentioned his nephew in a letter.
"All you've got ter du, Inspector," he added, "is tu telegraph tu the police at Abbotsbury an' get them to see my brother Tom—young Tom here's father."
The inspector turned to Mr. Armitage.
"You reported the matter, I understand?"
"We merely reported that we had picked up a boat with a boy in it somewhere in West Bay," replied the Scoutmaster. "The reply to our signal was to the effect that the boy was the one who had broken out of Portland. We had no reason to doubt the statement. Now we know that it is wrong, but you must admit that the assertion did not come from us. I might also point out that the dinghy bears the words: 'Gregory—Abbotsbury'."
"All right, Gregory," said the inspector, addressing "Uncle Garge". "You can take your nephew away and be responsible for him. Bring him here to-morrow at ten o'clock—merely as a matter of form."
The crowd without raised a cheer when the two Gregorys appeared. Mr. Armitage and Mr. Graham were greeted with a storm of hisses and cat-calls.
Holding his nephew's arm, Garge Gregory mounted a doorstep and held up his hand. Such was the popularity of the little man that almost instantly the noisy throng relapsed into silence.
"Friends!" exclaimed Mr. Gregory in stentorian tones, "'tes all a mistake. You'm no call tu rant at these gen'l'men here. They be rare gude uns, seein' as 'ow they saved my nephew's life, so tu say. Look see: they bain't a-had nothin' tu du wi' this little misunderstandin'. T'was all the fault of the perlice; so don't 'ee shout agin' these gen'l'men no more."
"We'm mighty sorry to be sure, sir," said one of the men, who had been conspicuous in the hostile demonstration.