The Tramp gasped with surprise.
“Don’t say a word,” continued Ogden in a broken voice. “It is all a man can do who truly repents. To-morrow all will be settled with my lawyers.”
There was silence. Then the Tramp suddenly stood up. “Money, land, honour—what is this?” he cried. “I don’t want this. Give me back the one treasure of my life—my little Mariette!”
Ogden started. “I had forgotten the child,” he said. “Of course—of course. Black Bill took her—to-morrow he shall tell what he did with her. And Danny—he kidnapped him, for some reason. He will have to make known where the boy is.”
CHAPTER XXIII
“WHAT’S UP?”
“What on earth can be up?” thought Nipper to himself, as he sat up in bed, in the big sunny room that was the three boys’ bedroom. There was Hugh asleep on the sofa in his clothes. And there was David (who was to have been out all night) lying in bed, in a wild, restless attitude, one arm flung across the pillow. His hands and face were very dirty, and there was what looked like a smudge of blood across his cheek. His clothes, covered with dust and earth and bits of bracken, lay in a heap on the floor.
Nipper looked about for something convenient to throw at his brother in order to waken him and inquire what was up, but before he had time to do so, something else had attracted his attention. Strolling down the rose walk outside the window, and dipping his head every now and then to avoid the long thorny arm of a rose tree stretched out to hook passers-by, or a dew-drenched branch of crimson rambler, came the Mysterious Tramp. His arm was in a sling, and the sling was made of a Cub’s neckerchief. He had a strange look on his face, as if he was puzzled and worried, but also happy.
What could be up? Nipper was about to shout “Hullo” out of the window, when once more his attention was diverted. Running across the field came Bobby Brown.
Of course—he had forgotten—he and Bobby had arranged to meet at seven, and go out in search of Danny. It must be seven, and he had forgotten to get up quick, and dress. He leaned out of the window to see if it really was seven, by the sundial—he could tell the time by the sundial, it was so much easier than the nursery clock, with its silly gold face and little niggly hands. Yes, the sun said it was six, that meant seven by summer time.
Signing to Bob to wait, Nipper slipped softly out of bed. He decided, after all, not to wake the twins and Hugh; they might go and spoil his adventure. He had a very small pretence at a wash, dressed, had a try to put the comb through his hair, and gave up the attempt, decided not to wash his teeth, knelt down and said his prayers, which were nearly all for the intention of finding Danny, and then slipped gently down the wide oak staircase, and out of a window, into the sunny garden.