On the floor of the shop they found the poor white man lying completely exhausted. They asked him to explain, but he could not speak. Mr. Toby and Mr. Punch, one on each side, supported him into the back room, and sat him down in a chair before Aunt Amanda. She held up her hands in astonishment. The man was certainly a strange-looking man. They plied him with questions, but he touched his tongue with his finger and shook his head. He could not speak; he was dumb. Freddie, after one long look at him under the gaslight, knew who he was.
"It's Mr. Hanlon!" he cried, in great excitement. "It's Mr. Hanlon!"
The dumb man looked at Freddie and smiled, and nodded his head. He rose to his feet, shook Freddie's hand, and made a graceful bow to the whole company.
"It's Mr. Hanlon sure enough," said Toby, "still being chased by the imps. Pretty near got him that
time, too! But he got away safe and sound after all, didn't he, eh?" And all the party, including Mr. Hanlon himself, laughed with delight. And when the Churchwarden pulled out his little perfume bottle and showed it around, and explained to Mr. Hanlon what it had done, the poor man was so overcome that he put his head down on the Churchwarden's shoulder and wept.
"This'll never do!" cried Toby. "Ain't we never, never, going to get down to this here map? I never see such a time as I've had, trying to examine this here map! One thing right after another! Mr. Hanlon, I'll tell you what it's about, and then you can see it for yourself. Would you like to stay here with our little party? It's a good deal safer than out-of-doors."
Mr. Hanlon nodded eagerly and smiled, and Toby explained everything to him and showed him the map.
"Now," said Toby, when that was done, "speak up, Warden, and finish what you was a-saying!"