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 Creeping up very softly the two Cubs made their way to the twin’s
bedroom. David was soon in bed and Hugh curled up on the sofa.
Before long they were asleep.
Meanwhile, in the Squire’s study a strange conversation was going
on between Mr. Ogden and the Mysterious Tramp.
“Of course I could escape if I liked,” said Mr. Ogden, “and just
leave everything. But I can’t do it now, I can’t do it! You’ve taught
me honour and courage and showed me that a more noble spirit is
worth while.”
“You must thank your Scout Danny for that,” said the Tramp. “I
was waiting to reap my revenge. It was the thought of him made me
do what I did.”
“Well,” said Ogden, “you’ve lost all, and suffered for seven years in
prison. Justice can never be truly satisfied. But I will do my best to
satisfy it. I shall give myself up and plead guilty. I shall suffer seven
years in prison—more perhaps. And all this wealth that I made at
your expense, sir, will be yours. You will be master of this house, this
land, and of my income. As to my grandsons, I leave it to your
mercy what you will do with them.”
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.
He found Bobby Brown standing in the middle of a geranium
border, his mouth wide open, and his blue eyes very round.
“Hullo!” said Nipper. “What are you doing—staring at nothing like a
stuck pig.”
“Sh-sh-sh!” said Bobby, and pointed up at the store-room window
a few feet above his head.
“He must be potty,” Nipper told himself, and also leapt into the
middle of the geranium bed; he had never thought of doing this
before; it was delightful to think how angry Mr. Pooks would be if he
could see, but it was Bobby who had started it, and Bobby never set
bad examples—Miss Prince said so.
“Listen,” said Bobby.
Nipper listened. A hoarse, strange voice was talking in the store-
room.
The store-room was a small room opening out of the hall. It was
always kept locked, because Mr. Ogden kept his guns and fishing
rods in there. The windows were barred. Who on earth could be
talking in it?
“Make a back, you fat-head, instead of standing there staring, and
I’ll have a squint,” commanded Nipper.
Bobby meekly obeyed, and presented a small fat back, upon
which Nipper ruthlessly stepped, with hard and painful boots.
“Ow-w-w-oo!” said Bobby.
“Don’t give in to yourself!” replied Nipper, sternly, getting a firmer
foothold, and clutching the edge of the window with his fingers. And
then he suddenly stood quite still, as if frozen with horror—for he
found himself looking full into the face of Black Bill, the one person
in the world of whom he had a real dread. And it was Black Bill, with
rumpled hair, bits of bracken in his beard, his shirt all torn open at
the neck, and hanging in shreds, his arms tied down to his sides,
and a look of sullen rage in his terrible eyes.
 With a gasp Nipper staggered off Bobby’s back and broke five
geraniums in his fall. In a few horrified words he explained what he
had seen.
“Whatever can be up?” said Bobby.
“That’s what I keep thinking,” said Nipper. “It’s awful mysterious.
But we’d better go and search for Danny.”
Creeping round to the old cucumber frame where they had hidden
their secret store, they drew forth their provisions for the day, and
the other things they had collected, as likely to be useful on the
expedition for the relief of Danny.
Having packed everything into a small Gladstone bag, they set
forth upon their quest, taking turns with the bag, which they carried
over their shoulders slung on a stick.
Their methods were as follows: Tramping round the country, they
visited every place that they themselves would have chosen as the
best place to hide a kidnapped boy in, and walking round it, they
shouted as loud as possible a certain call which Danny had taught
them, and which it was an understood thing in the Pack must always
be answered, whenever and wherever heard.
It was like a huge game of hide-and-seek.
The day before, Nipper and Bobby had visited, among other
places, a windmill, seven farms, five churches, four sheds or
cowhouses in fields, a boat house, a village football pavilion, the golf
club, some waterworks, a lime kiln, and a disused sandpit. But only
echoes had answered their oft-repeated call.
Footsore, and sore of throat, and very tired of the Gladstone bag,
they had returned home at night, still entirely determined to
persevere in the search until they should find Danny. “We won’t give
in to ourselves,” they told each other, every time things were very
disappointing, and Danny did not prove to be in the farm buildings,
or imprisoned with the golf clubs, or in the coal-holes of the various
churches.
We will now leave these two dauntless tenderpads, making their
way towards a deserted grange four miles away, and return to what
was happening at the Hall.
 CHAPTER XXIV
BLACK BILL IS QUESTIONED

The next to wake was Bill. He also wondered what was up, and
waking David, made inquiries. It was jolly hard to make head or tail
of his twin’s story, and Bill wondered if he was by accident telling his
dream, instead of yesterday’s adventure. But as Hugh seemed to
have had the same dream, this could not be the case.
Dressing quickly the boys decided to go down and look for the
Mysterious Tramp, who had promised Mr. Ogden that he would
remain at the Hall. Walking noiselessly on the thick carpet which
covered the stairs, the boys heard Mr. Ogden’s voice in the hall, and
stopped.
“The old chap’s up early,” said Bill. “It is only just eight. I wonder
what’s up.”
“Hullo, hullo! Is that 846?” said Mr. Ogden’s voice.
“He’s ’phoning,” whispered David.
“Hullo! Will you please take an important message for Inspector
Grey?”
A long message followed, all about Inspector Grey coming himself
as soon as possible, with some constables.
Then Mr. Ogden retired to his study and locked the door.
The Cubs found the Mysterious Tramp on the terrace, having a
very serious pow-wow with Miss Prince. He stayed to breakfast with
them, but was very silent, and not a bit funny—which was
disappointing.
“When are you going to make Black Bill say where Danny is?”
asked David.
“If he won’t say, will you use torture?” inquired Bill the practical.
“Yes, yes!” burst in David, the imaginative; “you could make a
lovely thumb-screw with my fretwork vice. But I think slow roasting
would be best. If you lit the stove in the billiard-room you could
make him sit on it till it got hotter and hotter and hotter, like——”
 “No,” said the Tramp thoughtfully, looking reprovingly at Miss
Prince, who was apparently choking over her buttered toast, “I don’t
think we shall need to use torture. Black Bill will find it best to plead
guilty of everything, and clear up all the mysteries.”
“D’you s’pose he’s fool enough to tell the truth?” asked Bill. “I tell
you it’ll have to be torture.”
It was soon after breakfast that a long, grey car arrived, bringing
the Inspector, a wiry little man in plain clothes and two constables. It
was closely followed by a closed car, containing two more
constables.
“What a lot of coppers they want to settle two gipsies,” remarked
Hugh. “My father can deal with three poachers, single-handed.”
The first thing that took place was the cross-questioning of Black
Bill. As the Tramp had said, he didn’t try to justify himself. He said
Danny had been prying into his private concerns, and he owned up
that he had kidnapped him. He explained exactly where he might be
found—namely, in the disused water-mill. He only hoped he had not
tried to escape out of the window, and fallen into the river, and got
sucked under the wheel.
An expedition hurried off to the mill, to return an hour after with
the sad news that Danny was not in the mill, but that there were
signs of the room having been recently occupied, and the window
overlooking the river being open.
Next came a question asked by Mr. Ogden, while the Tramp
listened, holding his breath, a look of intense expectation in his eyes.
“The little gell? Oh, poor little Mariette,” said Black Bill. “I’m sorry
to say she died soon after Mr. Crale handed her over to me. Fretting
for her father must have did it. I know I took good enough care of
her, and my old woman tended her as if she had been her own kid.”
The Tramp seemed to crumple up. He took no more interest in the
rest of the proceedings. He would have gone out, but Mr. Ogden
asked him to remain.
When, at last, the business was over, two constables led the
gipsies away to the waiting car. Mr. Ogden was accompanied to his
study by a policeman, who remained with him, and the Inspector
went away in his car.
 The Tramp strode quickly out across the garden. As he passed the
terrace Miss Prince jumped up as if to ask a question.
“She’s dead,” said the Tramp, in a cold, dry voice, and walked
quickly on.
“Why,” said David, later, “is Miss Prince crying on the terrace?”
“Don’t ask me,” said Bill. “I can’t stand crying women.”
 CHAPTER XXV
THE RESCUE OF DANNY

“The deserted Grange.” The very words thrilled Nipper to the

marrow. It was Bobby Brown who suggested going there. He knew
about it because, once, when out with his father as he drove on his
rounds in his dog-cart, Dr. Brown had pointed it out.
It was a smallish, grey stone house, in a straggling garden where
a huge army of weeds had nearly choked the flowers, a few of which
still fought for existence—a rose or two, and a few thin, sad
wallflowers.
A moat ran half-way round the deserted Grange. In one place the
walls went right down into the water.
With all the strength of their lungs the Cubs’ shouted the familiar
call, “Ya-hoo-oo-wah!” and then stood still and listened.
“Ya-hoo-oo-wah! Yah-hoo-oo-wah!” came back a faint answer
from the grey walls of the Grange.
“A beastly echo again,” said Nipper, in despair. But Billy Brown was
clutching his arm with perspiring fingers.
“No, no, Nipper!” he panted; “not an echo; echoes don’t say it
twice!”
“No they don’t!” cried Nipper excitedly. “Bob, you aren’t such a
chump as I thought you were!”
“Danny—Danny!” shouted Nipper.
“Hul-lo!” came Danny’s voice, very faint and far away.
Running through the tangled garden, the Cubs entered the Grange
through the open door. Their footsteps sounded hollow and uncanny
on the wooden floors.
Again they called, and again Danny answered. This time his voice
came from below their feet.
“He’s in the dungeons!” said Nipper, dwelling on the word with
delicious horror. “I expect he’s chained up among the skeletons of
the men what’s been starved to death—like that guide told us at the
Castle. It’s a good thing there aren’t any bloodhounds nowadays.”
But try as they would, the Cubs could not force open a single one
of the heavy doors that seemed as if they might lead down to the
cellar.
“Come round to the window,” called Danny. “If you could give me
a rope, and break the bars, I could climb up and get out.”
The Cubs ran out again into the garden. Before long they had
espied what must be the grating of the dungeon—a small, barred
window. But, alas! it was in the wall which went down into the moat.
Calling out once more, they found Danny’s voice certainly came from
this window. What should they do?
Then the puzzle was suddenly solved, for, moored to a stump they
discovered an old and rotten punt. It was half-full of water, but this
did not matter. Getting in, they pushed off from the bank with two
long sticks, and punted themselves across.
“Here we are!” they said, as they reached the barred window.
“Thank God!” came Danny’s voice. “I knew He wouldn’t let me die
here!”
“What shall we do?” said Nipper.
“Let down a rope; about five foot would do,” said Danny.
The Cubs looked around them in despair. They hadn’t got a rope.
Then Nipper caught sight of the chain by which the punt had been
moored to the bank. This the Cubs let down through the grating,
and then hung on to it for dear life. Soon Danny’s face appeared at
the window. It filled them with horror, for he looked years older and
as pale as a ghost, with grey shadows under his eyes.
“Oh, how ripping to see you kids!” he said. “You don’t know all
I’ve suffered in that damp hole, with the rats, and no food.”
The bars were thin and rusty, but Danny could not manage to
break them. Punting themselves back to the other side of the moat,
the Cubs collected two enormous stones, and then punted back.
Danny slipped to the ground again, and by dint of a few
tremendous blows with the stones, the Cubs smashed in the bars.
Letting down the chain, they then hauled Danny up once more.
Crawling through the tiny window he stepped into the punt.
 “Quick—she’s sinking!” he said, and got her back to the bank only
just in time.
“Now,” said Danny, “for home, and then to rescue Mariette!”
Crawling through
the narrow
window, Danny
stepped into the
punt.
 CHAPTER XXVI
WHERE’S THE TRAMP?

As Danny and the two Cubs stood together on the mossy bank of
the moat, the old punt sank.
“She did a good bit of work on her last voyage,” said Nipper, as if
he was speaking of a first-class cruiser, or a mine-sweeper at least.
“I wonder she kept up as long as she did,” said Danny, “she’d got
a huge hole in her bottom. I got a horrid shock when I saw what
you two kids were in.”
“But it wouldn’t have mattered if she had sunk,” said Bob, “you
had taught us both to swim. Don’t you remember what a job you
had with Nipper—he would play about all the time, and splash
everybody, instead of practising? I always did my best all the time,
and didn’t give in to myself.”
Nipper hurriedly changed the subject.
“You must be awfully hungry,” he said to Danny, “or did you eat
rats? Look, we’ve brought you a lot of grub. Sit down and eat it
before we start home—there’s four miles to walk.”
Danny shuddered. “No, I didn’t eat the rats,” he said. He sat down
on the bank, and made short work of all the grub the Gladstone bag
contained.
“That’s better,” he said at last. He looked an absolute scarecrow,
his shirt still inside out, no neckerchief, and smears of dirt all over
his very pale and haggard face.
They were only able to go slowly, for Danny ached from head to
foot, for the place had been terribly damp, and the rats had
prevented him from sleeping a wink.
“Did you give up hope?” said Nipper.
“No,” replied Danny. “A Scout never gives up hope. But it was
pretty ghastly. My only comfort was in thinking that I was suffering
like Sir Thomas More in the Tower of London, and the martyrs who
were shut up in ‘Little Ease’—the rats used to swim into it at high
tide, you know.”
They had got to the road by now, and Danny’s heart sank at the
thought of a four mile walk; but he said nothing.
However, his good angel had not deserted him yet. They had not
walked a hundred yards before a farm cart passed them, piled high
with a load of straw. In the country everybody gives anybody a lift,
and the friendly carter nodded his assent to Nipper’s request.
Danny and the Cubs clambered up, and were soon curled up in a
comfortable nest. Then Danny told them the whole story, and they
told him the extraordinary things they had discovered that morning.
The cart dropped the little party at the gates of the Hall, and they
walked up the long drive. Arrived near the house, Nipper and Bob
began to swell with pride. They, alone, of all the search parties had
been successful! They had rescued the hero of the story! Each
taking one of Danny’s hands, they led him in triumph on to the
terrace, where a little crowd of people were sadly discussing Danny’s
fate.

The Cubs cheered and threw

themselves upon Danny, like so
many wild animals.
[To face page 121.
 A cheer went up from the four other Cubs, who threw themselves
on Danny like so many wild animals. The bailiff and the policeman
crowded round. The cook came rushing out of the kitchen, her eyes
still red, and laughed and wept, for joy, and kissed Nipper and Bobby
(much to their disgust), and promised to make them cream
meringues and ices and jam puffs, and “hanythink helse they liked
to hask for, bless their little ’earts.”
Danny strove to get out of the excited mob. “I’ll tell you all about
it soon,” he said, “but there’s one person I must see before I do
anything else—I must see the Tramp—I’ve got something very
important to tell him, and no time must be lost.”
“Where’s the Tramp?” everybody asked everybody else. No one
knew. So the whole party scattered, to hunt. Miss Prince tried to
persuade Danny to stay and rest. “The poor Tramp,” she said, “has
had a terrible blow. I’m afraid it’s broken his heart. He strode off,
early this morning, and I should say he’s gone off to walk miles and
miles, to be alone with his grief.”
But nothing would restrain Danny—he insisted on going just as he
was to search. He walked off through the wood, past the very spot
where, last year, the Mysterious Tramp had come walking down the
mossy path, and into their lives. What strange things had happened
since then! After all, St. Antony, “the saint who finds lost things,” and
whose statue had seemed to the Tramp to be pointing out that
mossy path to him from his niche in the little grey church at the
cross roads, had found the little lost girl!
Danny passed the gamekeeper’s cottage, and recalled that sad
conversation in the early morning sunlight, when the Tramp had
spoken of his quest of revenge, and Danny had told him it was not
much use to expect to get his prayers heard, when he kept revenge
in his heart.
“He must have forgiven his enemies,” Danny told himself, “and
that was why God answered his prayer.” He walked on through the
wood, and climbed the fence on to the road.
The church door stood wide open, as usual, and Danny crossed
the road to turn in and say thank you for having been rescued from
death, and for the finding of Mariette.
 The church was very dim and quiet—full of a holy feeling. A
golden ray of sunlight fell across the sanctuary. Danny knelt down
reverently. At first he thought he was alone. Then he saw a dark
figure, bowed down on the step, before the altar; and suddenly a
strained, hoarse voice broke through the silence: “O God, this is too
much, too much. I lived in the one hope that You were merciful, that
You would give her back to me at last: and all the time she was
dead, dead, dead. And yet ... if it’s Your Will ... I accept it....”
Danny got softly up and slipped out of the church. It is wrong to
listen to any one speaking to another—but most of all to someone
speaking alone to God. He sat down on a tree-stump in the
churchyard, and waited. Presently a step made him glance up. The
Mysterious Tramp stood framed in the archway of the porch, the
sunlight falling on his thin, sad face. But there was a strange look of
peace and steadfastness in his eyes that Danny had never seen
there before.
He walked down the path and would have passed by had not
Danny got up. Stepping up to the Tramp he took his arm.
“I say,” he said, “we must thank God for something. I’ve found
your little Mariette.”
The Tramp reeled back, and then stood gazing at Danny in
silence.
“What do you mean?” he said at last. “Found my little Mariette?
But she’s dead—dead!”
“No,” said Danny, “she’s alive, and in a yellow caravan, longing
and longing for her daddy. I was just rescuing her, like King Arthur’s
knights rescuing a maiden in distress, when Black Bill took me
prisoner and very nearly made an end of me.”
As they walked back together through the wood, Danny told the
Tramp the whole story of the finding of Mariette. He longed to
inquire about the capture of Black Bill, and all the other strange
happenings, but he could see that the Tramp could think of nothing
but his little girl.
 CHAPTER XXVII
THE FINDING OF MARIETTE

Inspector Grey’s car once more hummed along the dusty road, but
this time it contained, besides the two constables, Danny and the
Mysterious Tramp.
The gipsy camp was still at Bradmead, but the swings were all
folded up, the big tent was down, there was no monotonous music
from the merry-go-round. The whole camp was under arrest. Black
Bill’s sons and all the men-folk had been taken into custody. Six
stalwart policemen were on guard, keeping an eye on the women
and children.
Going up to the yellow caravan, Inspector Grey beat a sharp rat-
tat on the door. A hideous old woman put out her head and said:
“Whaat-cher waant?” But when she saw the police she became
polite and whiny-piny. Inspector Grey ordered her to get out of the
caravan. She wouldn’t at first, and said: “It wasn’t no place fit for a
nice gentleman like him to go in.” So the stalwart policeman
chivalrously handed her out and the Inspector entered.
Presently he reappeared at the top of the steps, holding by the
hand a pale little girl in a tattered brown dress and a shock of
uncombed golden hair.
A cry of joy broke from the Tramp.
“Mariette!”
He stood with open arms at the bottom of the yellow steps.
For a moment she looked at him with wide grey eyes. Then
recognition began to dawn in them. “It’s—my—daddy!” she cried,
and jumped down into his arms.
Inspector Grey looked the other way, and the policeman blew his
nose—he was a family man himself.
 The morning sun filled the big library, and shone on the musty old
leather-backed books, the mahogany table, and quaint dog-irons in
the fireplace.
Very silent and wide-eyed, David, Bill and Nipper sat on three big
leather chairs. The Mysterious Tramp (now clad in a grey flannel
suit, his arm in a black silk sling) sat in a deep armchair; and on the
hearthrug stood Mr. Ogden, his face set and pale, his knobbly hands
working nervously.
“Boys,” he said, “my grandsons; Mr. Graham—I have something to
say to you of a very grave nature. It is difficult to say—let us get it
over quickly.
“In the past I was guilty of a very terrible crime. To cover my own
guilt and to escape its just punishment, I played a horrible trick upon
an innocent man, by which he was accused of my crime. He suffered
the seven years’ imprisonment that was my desert. He lost the little
daughter whom he loved. He lost all. His career was ruined. He was
turned out into the world—a tramp.
“And I? I lived here in luxury—luxury bought at his expense. Did
my luxury make me happy? No. The canker of remorse was eating
into my heart.
“Then came a memorable night when the man I had wronged saw
me in the power of my enemies, saw his wrong about to be
avenged. But he had forgiven me. He did that which is the highest
sign of love which one man can give another—he risked his life to
save mine.
“What can I do to repay him for all he has unjustly suffered? I can
only give him all I have—this house, my wealth. You, my grandsons,
I have entrusted to his care. He is your guardian. Obey him as if he
was your father. And what is to happen to me? Many years of prison
are due to me. I cannot look any man in the face until I have paid
my debt to justice.
“To-day I go to London to await my trial. I shall go to prison. If I
ever come out alive I shall have to depend on the charity of the man
I have wronged. Good-bye, my children, good-bye. Remember what
I have told you. If you ever sin against man and against God confess
your sin and bear your punishment, or life will hold only bitterness
for you, and death only fear. Pray for me sometimes, and be good
sons to this man.”
Very stiffly, he gave each boy a kiss, shook hands with the Tramp
and, turning, strode out of the room.
There was a whir and buzz, and Inspector Grey’s car moved away
down the drive.
Luncheon was a rather silent meal. Mariette did most of the
talking; and there was one fairly animated argument between her
and Nipper, as to which end you should cut a cucumber.
“Look here, we really must cheer up,” said the Tramp, as they rose
from the table and walked out into the hall. “Well, kiddies, what do
you think of your new father?”
“We are jolly glad!” said Bill. “Shall we call you Father?”
“You sha’n’t call him Daddy,” said Mariette quickly.
“Yes, you can call me Father, if you like,” said the Tramp, laughing.
“And we’ve got a sister, now!” said David.
“Yes,” said Mariette shyly. She had a marked preference for David,
who protected her from Nipper.
“And Danny can be our big brother,” said Bill, who hadn’t much
use for girls.
“All we want now,” said Nipper, “is a mother.” Then a bright idea
struck him. “Miss Prince can be our mother!” he cried.
Danny kicked him, and told him in a whisper to shut up, but
Nipper didn’t see why he should shut up over such a splendid idea.
“But she can be our mother, can’t she?” he said, appealing to the
Tramp.
“Yes, yes!” cried the others altogether—even Mariette, who had
already found in Miss Prince the mother’s tenderness she had never
known.
“Can she be our mother? Say yes, say yes!” pleaded Nipper,
clinging to the Tramp’s hand.
“Don’t be so previous, Nipper,” said the Tramp. “I was only waiting
for all you chaps to clear out, to ask Miss Prince that myself. Come,”
he said, stretching out his free hand towards her, “let’s go out into
the garden and hide our blushes—this is too painful!”
 As they went out of the French window Nipper caught hold of Miss
Prince’s hand.
“Say yes,” he whispered—“to please me.”
“All right,” whispered back Miss Prince.

And that is how the three naughty boys at the Hall became three
good boys, and obtained a father, a mother, a sister, and best of all,
a big brother—Danny, the Detective.

THE END.

Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner, Frome and London

 Transcriber’s Notes
Illustrations have been moved so they do not break up the paragraphs.

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after
careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of
external sources. Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the
text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

The following corrections have been applied to the text:

Page Source Correction

9 ... cry-cry-cry baby.’ The ... ... cry-cry-cry baby.” The ...
15 ... ‘give in to myself” ... ... ‘give in to myself’ ...
32 ... Cub spirit,”’ said Danny; ... ... Cub spirit,” said Danny; ...
34 ... in Cub-master’s uniform, ... ... in Cubmaster’s uniform, ...
47 ‘I went on to ... “I went on to ...
72 ... their caravans At last ... ... their caravans. At last ...
facing 76 To face page 76. [To face page 76.
83 ... off the cocoa-nut shie. ... ... off the cocoanut shie. ...
88 ... ’cos their awfully ... ... ’cos they’re awfully ...
99 ... the word, ... the word.
108 ... he had forgottten—he and ... ... he had forgotten—he and ...
110 ... sheds or cow-houses in ... ... sheds or cowhouses in ...
116 “Nor they don’t!” ... “No they don’t!” ...
facing 118 [To face page 108. [To face page 118.
120 ... Thomas Moore in the ... ... Thomas More in the ...
125 ... dog-irons in the fire-place. ... dog-irons in the fireplace.
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIOUS
TRAMP ***

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