Black Bill laughed. “I told him,” he said, “that you and I were the only ones left of the old gang. That we were working hard for our living, now, and we didn’t see why he should swank it as a blooming squire, when we helped him make the money he bunked to America with. I said if he refused to meet us, and talk the matter over, I would make known the whole story to the public, and bring disgrace on his name, and show every one that he is not an honest English gentleman, but a forger, who made off with the swag, letting an innocent man suffer imprisonment for him.
“I told him I had a way of making his story known, without bringing suspicion on myself; and I said now we’d found him again, we weren’t going to let him go.”
The Cubs, listening with all their ears, could not make head or tail of all this, for they did not know the story the tramp had told Danny. All they knew was that Mr. Ogden, the twin’s grandfather, was having a plot made against him—an extraordinary plot they could not understand. It was their duty to save him.
“And what is yer goin’ to say to ’im to-night?” asked the man.
“I’m going to tell him that now he’s back, and has got plenty of money, we can start the gang again, with me as boss and him as one of the partners—the partner what provides the money! I’ve drawn up this statement” (and here Black Bill produced a paper), “and I’m going to say if he doesn’t sign it, and keep to it, we will make his story known. Then, I’ll make him write a big cheque, as a start off!”
The foxy-faced man rubbed his hands together and chuckled.
What could it mean? The Cubs were sorely puzzled. Then Black Bill said something which made them prick up their ears.
“As to that Scout I caught the other night, I made Ogden agree to leave off the search for him. I’ve got him safe, and, whatever happens, he mustn’t escape.”
“Well,” said the stranger, “strikes me we’d better be getting a move on, if we are to be at the cross-roads before 12.30.”
The two men rose, and the Cubs lay flat on the pile of damp hay.