"We're saves," said John. "Willum comin' soon."
"Good Lord! Another!" groaned the young man.
"'Slaves 6½d.,'" she read out. "It must be a code. They may be a—er—plant, don't you call it? A confidence trick ... burglar's trap. I think we ought to take them straight to Dr. Barnardo's Homes."
"But perhaps they aren't waifs," said the stout one. "Are you waifs, darlings?"
"No; saves," said George. "An' Willum comin' soon."
"I see it all," said the stout one suddenly, "it's as clear as daylight. William's the burglar. He's sent them to help him effect an entrance."
"Oo, I'm hungry," said John.
His plaint broke suddenly into a loud howl, in which George joined. Their united efforts produced a noise that made the tall lady lean back against the wall with eyes closed and a hand on her head, and sent the young man flying into the kitchen.
"Where's the larder?" he cried desperately. "Food! Food at any price! He said he'd get in necessities. Do something ... anything.... They'll have fits or something!"
"Oh, I can't bear it," moaned the tall lady faintly.