Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 59

"Impossible."

"Was it, egad? I thought so, but I am not easily mistaken."

"Unless you dreamt."

"Bah!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, with ineffable contempt; "fiddlesticks!"

"But did you suppose she was in league with Hunston?" demanded Emily with great eagerness.

"No."

"What then?"

"He was bamboozling her, twisting her round his finger^ as one might say. He had got up a casual chat, persuading her that he was a private friend of yours, so he pumped and pumped her about the boys, where they went, and so forth."

"And did she say any thing that could serve him in his vile purpose?"

asked Mrs. Harkaway.

"Plenty to help them, the miscreants, I suppose."

"The girl must be a downright idiot to get into conversation with a strange man after all that has taken place, and after all the danger which she knows they ran."

"Not far short of it," said Jefferson.

"He spoke particularly about the boys not venturing out to the mountains, that they were permitted only to sail about in their boat, and--"

Harkaway broke in here with an exclamation that startled them all.

"That explains all," he said. "All, all, I see it now."

"Do you? Explain."

"They have put out to sea and taken the boys, perhaps by stealth, perhaps by violence."

"Likely enough."

"Poor boys, poor boys!"

"And where did all this take place?" demanded Jefferson; "in one of the public promenades, did you say?"

"Mr. Jefferson," replied old Mole saucily, "you want your nose filed. I said in the dancing garden."

"Oh, de dancing garden, was it, Ma.s.sa Ikey?" said a voice in his ear, which caused him to palpitate nervously.

It was Mrs. Mole.

When he had spoken of the dancing garden, he had not noticed his better half's presence.

"Yes, my dear," he said timidly, trying to look dignified the while before the company.

"And what was you--doing in such a place as a dancing garding, Mister Mole, sar?" demanded his dusky rib, in a voice which sounded dangerous.

"I went, my dear, to study character," said Mr, Mole timidly....

"What?" thundered Mrs. Mole.

He trembled, and faltered something almost inaudibly.

"Studyin' character," said the lady with great contempt; "losing your character, you silly old pump--"

"My dear," remonstrated the old gentleman.

"Don't 'my dear' me," said Mrs. Mole; "you're gwine off your silly old c.o.kernut, you bald-headed old c.o.o.n."

"Mrs. Mole!"

"You go to dat dancin' garding for to see dem gals jump about and dance and make fools ob demselves, ignorant critters."

"No such thing, I tell you," said Mole, indignantly.

"Oh, yes, it is," said his better half, "and you's a bushel more indelicate dan dey is, you silly old possum."

This started the company off generally in a noisy fit of laughter, before which poor Mole was forced to beat a retreat, followed by his irate partner.

"Poor Mole," said Jefferson, laughing heartily, "it is an unlucky admission for him. Chloe will give it to him sorely for this, I'm afraid."

They went deeply into the question of ransoming the boys, for they were convinced that they had really fallen into the hands of the brigands.

But do what they would, say what they would, they could only come back to one result.

They must wait.

Patience was difficult under the circ.u.mstances, but there was no help for it.

"Wait till to-morrow," said Jefferson; "it is a hard job, I know, but I feel certain that if the boys are with the brigands, to-morrow morning will bring a message from them."

"But can nothing be done meanwhile?" said Emily.

"No."

"Nothing."

"Stay; you may get some papers printed and circulated everywhere, offering a heavy reward for the recovery of the boys."

"To what end?"

"It can do no harm, and may do good. At any rate, it will show the brigands that we are ready to pay the piper for our boys' sake."