“Goin’ in the opposite direction.”
“I didn’t know the way.”
“Where’s the baby?”
“I ’aven’t seen it, I tell yer. The mother said she’d lost it.”
“What the hell! Do you know the mother’s in bed sick? You’re a liar, my man, and we’re goin’ to take you in charge. If you’ve done anything to my baby I’ll kill you with my hands.”
“That’s it, Frank. Let ’im ’ave it. Throw ’im in the pond!”
“I tell yer I don’t know anythin’ about it all, with yer Franks, Freds and Georges! Go to the devil, all of yer!”
In spite of his protestations, some one produced a rope and they handcuffed him and tied him to the gate of the field. A small crowd had collected and began to boo and jeer. A man from a cottage hard by produced a drag, and between them they dragged the pond, as the general belief was that Edwin had tied a stone to the baby and thrown it in and was then just about to make off.
The uproar continued for some time, mud and stones being thrown about rather carelessly.
The crowd became impatient that no baby was found in the pond. At length another man turned up on a bicycle and called out: