CHAPTER XI
CAUGHT AT LAST
Outside Danny’s garden gate, an important-looking group of people were standing. In fact, they looked so important and so interesting that most of the inhabitants of the village had turned out to stare at them. Two Sixes of Cubs had been posted as a cordon to keep the staring crowd from touching the three grey motor cars or otherwise annoying the group.
This consisted of Captain Miles and a young officer, a sergeant and ten hefty privates, a police inspector and three constables, a private detective, Dick and Danny.
“Here he comes!” said Dick. The Scout who had been sent up to the Hall was returning, accompanied by the pompous butler, bearing the great iron key that unlocked the gate of the Abbey ruins. It would have been rather ignominious for an officer of the British army to have to crawl through cabbages and gooseberry bushes and a small hole in a privet hedge—or so thought the Scouts—though Captain Miles was quite prepared to do so.
“But it would be difficult bringing the prisoners out that way,” said Danny. The constables grinned at the small boy’s assurance. And the private detective (the real one) looked green with envy.
“Lead the way, young Cub,” said Captain Miles, as the gate swung open with a screech of rusty hinges.
For the second time that day, Danny walked across the grassy space of the Abbot’s garden. And his heart was light and his ambitious soul satisfied, for behind him walked an officer, and men with fixed bayonets. Two privates relieved the Scouts who still crouched in the darkness within the ruin of the Abbot’s House. They blinked like owls as they climbed out into the sunlight again.
“We will deal with the tower first,” said Captain Miles.
Danny led the way to the tower door.
To their disappointment, the officer ordered Danny and the Scouts to retire to a safe distance. But from there they watched, their hearts beating with excitement.