It was the oldest part of the village, near the canal and the railway station, and many of the houses were dilapidated. Jack was thinking that Mary might write something about improving such a neglected, squalid quarter, when he heard a shriek from the door of a house near by.
"Robbers!—thieves!—fire!—murder!—rob-bers!—villains!"
It was the voice of a woman, and had a crack in it that made it sound as if two voices were trying to choke each other.
"Robbers!" shouted Jack springing forward, just as two very short men dashed through the gate and disappeared in the darkness.
If they were robbers they were likely to get away, for they ran well.
Jack Ogden did not run very far. He heard other footsteps. There were people coming from the opposite direction, but he paid no attention to them, until just as he was passing the gate.
Then he felt a hand on his left shoulder, and another hand on his right shoulder, and suddenly he found himself lying flat on his back upon the sidewalk.
"Hold him, boys!"
"We've got him!"
"Hold him down!"