“And they’re drowned.”
“Drowned.”
“Now don’t take on,” said Mrs. Bott soothingly to the distraught mothers, “don’t take on so, dearies. Botty’ll have the lake dragged at once. There’s nothing to worry about.”
The mothers went down to the lake followed by the whole assembly. The Brigands, feeling that the situation had got far beyond their control, followed cautiously in the rear keeping well in the shadow of the bushes.
It was bright moonlight. All the guests stood round the lake gazing with mournful anticipation at its calm surface. The mothers clung to each other sobbing.
“He was always such a good boy,” sobbed Mrs. Brown. “And he looked so sweet in his little blue suit.”
Henry V, with one arm round Spring, was leaning over the lake and vaguely fishing in it with a garden rake that he had picked up near by. “You didn’t know him, of course,” he said to Spring, “but he was such a dear little chap and so fond of me.”
Then the Toreadors arrived, torn and battered and cobwebby and grimy. “Where are they?” they panted as they ran. “We’ve been insulted. We’ve been outraged. We’ve been shamefully treated. We demand those boys. We—ah!”
They caught sight of four Brigands cowering behind the bushes, and sprang at them.
The Brigands fled from them towards the lake. Henry V and Spring blocked William’s way. He pushed them on to one side, and both fell with a splash into the lake.