the two policemen at chudstone were feeling extremely puzzled.
it seemed so impossible that a boy of eight, supposed to have left home only that morning with little or no money, could have gone very far, and yet how was it, if he were anywhere in the neighbourhood, that nobody had yet succeeded in finding him?
there were no rivers within several miles of woodsleigh, and even the horse-ponds were shallow, so that micky could not well have been drowned; if he had been run over by a motor-car his mangled body would surely have been discovered before now; and as to the possibility of his having been stolen by gipsies, a raid upon the baddicomb van had made it clear that that theory, at least, was without foundation. under the circumstances it seemed extraordinary, not to say magical, that the boy had so utterly and absolutely disappeared.
now, as a matter of fact, there was nothing[202] magical or even extraordinary in the business. micky had simply gone to eastwich, and he had travelled there not on a broom-stick, but part of the way on his own legs, and the other part hanging on to the back of a cart, which was taking some noisily aggrieved pigs for their last sad drive to the pork butcher’s.
the real reason why nobody had managed to track him was twofold—firstly, he had had about twelve hours’ more start than his friends fancied, having left home not on wednesday morning, but at half-past seven on tuesday evening; and secondly, people were on the look out for one little gentleman, whereas it should have been for two little tramps!
‘don’t i make a splendid beggar?’ micky had demanded triumphantly, the evening before, when he had jumped out to join diamond jubilee, who was waiting just underneath his window—and the boast was no vain one. it is wonderful how a quick-witted boy can transform himself by dint of changing a neat sailor-suit for a ragged old coat and pair of knickers put away in the lumber-room, dispensing with collar, shoes, and stockings, and muddying his face and hands with flower-bed earth (‘you have to lick it to make it stick,’ micky was careful to explain when he told the story afterwards); and all these things micky had done, with the result that he looked every bit as[203] much of a little tramp as diamond jubilee himself.
‘it isn’t many men who’d have thought of waiting quietly in bed till the servants were safe out of the house,’ micky had remarked complacently, as he and diamond jubilee were setting out, ‘and i don’t suppose most people would have known how to disguise themselves so well. it’s really a beautifully managed adventure.’
in diamond jubilee’s eyes the adventure had needed only one improvement.
‘i could do with a bit of something to eat afore we starts,’ he had suggested.
‘but jane said i wasn’t to have my proper supper to-night, and of course we can’t take anything, for that would be stealing,’ said micky, not in the least meaning to lecture, but simply to state a matter of fact.
‘you are a softy!’ said diamond jubilee, but he spoke in quite an affectionate tone and did not press the point further. it was strange how different he was when alone with micky, from what he was when emmeline was trying to improve him.
‘what have you done with your monkey-nuts?’ micky had asked.
‘oh, i just throwed ’em away. i were that sick of ’em, an’ they’d have been an awful fag to carry.’
[204]
‘you are a slacker, diamond jubilee!’ said micky. ‘why, just look at me, carrying a whole suit besides my shoes and stockings!’ it had occurred to micky that he had better take his discarded sailor-suit and shoes and stockings with him, as they would be the handiest things to sell in case he found himself in need of money. it really was, as he said, a beautifully managed adventure!
none of the little boltons had worn shoes or stockings for the first six years of their lives, so that micky’s feet were too thoroughly hardened to mind stones or anything else, and the children did the first two miles of their journey at a good swinging pace, the more so, that there are plenty of sign-posts in that part of the country, so they did not have to stop and ask the way. during the third mile diamond jubilee began to flag badly, and micky was secretly repenting the foresight which had given him such a troublesome bundle to carry; and at the beginning of the fourth mile both boys agreed that they must rest somewhere for the night before going on any farther.
they were just at that moment passing a farmhouse, one of the outbuildings of which proved on inspection to be a barn with some straw in it. what better sleeping-place could have been desired? the boys went in, nestled down amongst the straw, and dozed off as soundly as a couple of[205] little tops. fortunately, or unfortunately, the lowing of the cows woke them up next morning before anyone had come in to find them, and they stole out again, feeling wonderfully refreshed and quite ready for the remaining nine miles of their walk. they had already gone one of those miles before micky suddenly remembered that he had left the bundle of his suit and shoes and stockings behind in the barn. it did not seem worth while to go back and fetch them, however, especially as they were such a bother to carry.
it could not have been more than about five o’clock when the boys set out again, but they made most of the remainder of their journey in so leisurely a fashion that it was past three in the afternoon before they were well into eastwich, and they would have been later still had it not been for the secret lift which they obtained by hanging on to the pigs’ cart for the last two miles of the way. what they had been doing all the time it would have been hard to say; they had begged their breakfast at one farm and their lunch at another—neither meal was more than a drink of water and a hunch of bread each, but the bread tasted delicious, eaten under the hedge, after that long, hungry walk; they had played about; micky had had such a successful fight with a little boy who had called after them, that diamond jubilee held out hopes that he might eventually develop[206] into the same kind of person as a certain friend of his, who had, he said, ‘been in quod fifteen times for fighting, and would knock a chap down sooner than look at him’; and they had passed the time of day with most of the animals they met; but still, even allowing for all this, it must be owned that their progress was decidedly slow.
‘i reckon,’ remarked diamond jubilee, when at last they did find themselves strolling through the streets of eastwich—it was at just about same time that emmeline was making her way to green ginger land—‘i reckon we’d better get some money afore we go to mother grimes’. she aren’t pleased if you come in without money, or wipes, or such, and sometimes she beat you something awful.’
micky had not the slightest idea what ‘wipes’ might be, but he was not going to give himself away by asking.
‘does she ever go on beating you till you bleed?’ he inquired with interest. he had never been beaten in his life, and was not in the least dismayed at the prospect, as a more experienced little boy might have been. on the contrary, he regarded it as adding just that touch of danger without which no adventure is complete.
‘i’ve bled whole basins’ full before now!’ boasted diamond jubilee. ‘it aren’t much of a treat, i can tell you, when once mother grimes[207] starts a good old set-to, so i reckon we’ll go to the fair for a bit and do coach-wheels for the folks to throw us money before we go home.’
this plan exactly suited micky, and to the fair they accordingly went.
so it came about that micky presently found himself once more in the midst of all that delightful noise and bustle which made up eastwich fair. he would turn his very best coach-wheels, he decided, and earn quantities of pennies for motor-rides and ice-cream (last time emmeline wouldn’t let them have any because people had to lick it out of glasses, as there were no spoons) and cocoanut-shies, and visits to the elephants. he wasn’t going to give all his money to that old mother grimes, whatever diamond jubilee might do.
to all appearance that young gentleman was in no great hurry to do anything, for he would keep loitering about in an idle way long after micky had begun turning coach-wheels. micky told him he was a slacker, but it made no difference.
quite a little crowd gathered to watch micky.
‘don’t the little chap do it well?’ ‘just look at the poor lamb’s bare feet?’ ‘he’d be a real pretty child if his face weren’t so dirty.’ ‘don’t he thank you pretty?’
those were some of the remarks people made[208] as they threw down their halfpence, and for each coin micky said, ‘thank you very much, ma’am!’ or ‘thank you very much, sir!’ with the utmost politeness, whichever way up he happened to be.
he had earned a small harvest of halfpence, and the little exhibition was still going on as merrily as a marriage-bell, when the dreadful thing happened.
‘yes, i’ve been keeping my eye on you two young rascals. i know your little game!’ said a stern, startling voice.
micky spun himself right way up in double-quick time, and what was his surprise and horror to see diamond jubilee struggling in the grip of a tall policeman!
‘please, sir, i’d only just picked it up to give it back to the lady,’ diamond jubilee was whimpering. ‘she’d dropped it on the ground, please sir.’
‘there’s no use telling any lies about it,’ said the policeman, ‘for i saw you take the handkerchief out of the lady’s pocket with my own eyes. you’ll just come along of me—and you too,’ he added, suddenly using his free hand to seize hold of the astonished micky.
‘it’s all a mistake,’ gasped micky. ‘on my word and honour as a gentleman we weren’t doing anything—i mean we were only turning coach-wheels—at least[209]——’
‘yes, i saw you turning coach-wheels to take off attention from what your friend was doing,’ was the gruff answer. ‘i know the dodge. it’s just the way you little thieves always work.’
micky’s face turned very white under its dirt.
‘we’re not thieves!’ he began hotly, but suddenly broke off. he could not say truthfully that diamond jubilee was not a thief, and it would be sneakish to stand up for himself at diamond jubilee’s expense. so micky pressed his lips tightly together, and tried hard to keep them from quivering. he was not going to cry like a baby before all these people.
‘i shall have to take down your name and address, ma’am,’ said the policeman to a frightened-looking lady who was standing near, and whom micky now noticed for the first time, ‘for you’ll be wanted to prosecute these boys.’
‘oh, i don’t want to be hard on such children, especially as i’ve got the handkerchief back,’ she answered nervously.
‘it will be the best possible thing for them,’ he answered in a low voice; ‘they belong to a regular thieves’ school, and we’ve been watching long enough for an opportunity of breaking it up. will you kindly hold the boys while i write the address?’ he added aloud to a stout young man.
the stout young man came forward willingly enough and took hold of an arm of each boy with[210] a firm grip from which diamond jubilee tried vainly to wriggle away. as for micky, he stood as still as a little statue, and held his head high.
it only took a moment for the policeman to write down the address in a notebook which he whipped out of his pocket; and then with a peremptory ‘make way there, please!’ to the bystanders, he took the two boys from the young man who was holding them and began marching them out of the fair ground, followed by a large crowd.
neither child made any attempt now to struggle away, but micky’s childish face had a look of set misery which went to the hearts of all the mothers who saw it, and presently struck even diamond jubilee.
now diamond jubilee, though a very naughty boy, was not altogether a hardened one, and that expression on micky’s face made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. micky had been a great softy not to stand up for himself—diamond jubilee, or any other sensible kid, would have jolly soon thrown the blame on the other chap if there had been the least chance of being believed—but some folks were born softies, and couldn’t help it. anyhow, diamond jubilee liked micky, and couldn’t abide his looking like that.
‘please, sir, the other boy didn’t have nothing to do with it; he were only doing coach-wheels so[211] as folks should throw him halfpennies,’ broke out diamond jubilee all of a sudden.
‘do you mean to say he didn’t know what you were up to?’ asked the policeman in an incredulous voice.
that question spoilt it. to own that he himself had been up to anything was more than could be expected of diamond jubilee’s generosity. ‘i weren’t up to nothing,’ he whined; ‘i’m sure i never took the wipe. all i done were to pick it up to give the lady.’
‘now, there’s no use in going back to that silly lie,’ said the policeman sharply, ‘for i saw you pull it out myself.’ for an instant his belief in micky’s being an accomplice had been somewhat shaken—though the boy would surely have joined in defending himself if his conscience had been clear—but this last untruth made him set diamond jubilee down as an inveterate little liar whose testimony was worth nothing at all. when the child began to repeat the assertion that the other boy anyhow had had nothing to do with it, he was silenced at once with a stern ‘i can’t believe anything you say.’
as to micky, he said not a word, partly out of a sense of chivalry towards diamond jubilee—if it would have been sneakish before to leave him to bear all the blame, it would be far worse now that he had been so decent—and partly because he[212] was too proud to stand up for himself when he was sure to be disbelieved.
as the two boys and the policeman walked along more and more people kept rushing out from side streets to see what was happening, until it seemed to poor micky that all eastwich must be there to witness his disgrace. well, as soon as ever he was free again, he should flee the country, he resolved fiercely. it would be unbearable to live any longer in a land where such thousands of people—micky felt sure there must be thousands at least—where such thousands of people came to stare at you being taken to prison.
before they had gone far, the policeman stopped at the door of a tall grim building with many windows, some of which had bars. into this grim building he took the boys.
the crowd of gazers was just beginning to scatter, when a white-faced little girl, whose eyes were wide open with terror and dismay, came running up breathlessly from the opposite direction from the one in which the fair lay. she looked about her distractedly as if she were hoping against hope to see somebody, and then leaned heavily against the wall of the tall grim building as though trying to steady herself.
‘well, it’s a lesson what happens to bad boys,’[213] a voice was saying—to the white-faced little girl it seemed to come from somewhere a long, long way off—‘how would you like to go to prison, jemmy?’
prison! oh, then the awful, unbelievable thing had happened! that tall grim house was a prison. it was to prison that she had seen the policeman taking micky and diamond jubilee. ‘those two little boys who’ve just gone in—in there,’ emmeline (for she it was) heard herself saying jerkily to the voice which sounded so far away—‘what had they been doing?’
the owner of the voice, a careworn lad who was standing with his little brother almost at her elbow, turned round and stared at emmeline’s pale, scared face. ‘they were caught at the fair picking pockets,’ he told her bluntly. it did not occur to him that there was any need to speak with caution of two little street-urchins who could have no possible connection with this well-dressed child.
emmeline found herself running madly through the streets of eastwich in the direction of mary’s house; running as she might have run if micky had been drowning, or she had been bound on some other errand of life or death. what she expected mary to be able to do she could not have told—even grown-ups could not rescue[214] people from prison—but the blind instinct of going to her old friend for help in this terrible trouble made her rush on, panting and sobbing, heedless of the many people against whom she knocked and who turned to stare after her in indignant or pitying surprise. she began crossing a road without noticing a tradesman’s cart which was galloping out of a side street; neither did she hear the driver’s horrified shout of ‘hi!’ as he tried vainly to pull up his horse in time. all she was conscious of was of suddenly being thrown to the ground, and then of a blow on her head and a frightful pain in her arm. afterwards everything became dark, and she knew no more.
