The farm yard made rough walking, and there seemed every excuse for my
taking her arm and none for her objecting; nor did she.
"Who is this delightful, arbitrary old gentleman?" she asked in my ear.
"You never introduced me!"
"Our uncle," I murmured back. "Jack and I both have expectations so we've
got to give him his head!"
I must say Sir Francis stage-managed our entrance into the Scollays'
house very effectively. As he quietly opened the door, he got us all
close behind him, exactly like a band of robbers, so that we trod on one
another's heels down a yard or two of narrow passage. The Scollays were
all seated round the kitchen table when our uncle's figure suddenly
towered out of the gloom, his pistol covering Peter senior's head, and
his voice thundering:
"Hands up!"
At the first command they simply gasped.
"Hands up or I fire!" thundered Sir Francis again, and up went every pair
of hands, and what is more they stayed up.
"Your confederate is captured and has confessed everything!" announced
Sir Francis.
The family visibly trembled but looked more amazed than ever.
"This fellow they call--" My uncle looked over his shoulder and
whispered, "What the devil was the fellow's name." And then in his
stentorian voice again, "This fellow called Jock has confessed! So I know
all about it.
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