What have you got to say for yourselves?"
I saw their bewildered eyes wandering from one to the other of the
family, and in a moment Mrs. Scollay asked in a quavering voice,
"What's come over Jock, do ye say, sir?"
"He has _confessed_!" repeated my uncle. "We know that he is a
German spy!"
He glared at each astounded face in turn and then exclaimed over
his shoulder,
"By Heaven, I actually don't believe they knew!"
"I think, sir, if you'll allow me," suggested my cousin, "I'd like to put
a few questions."
"Well," growled our uncle, "fire away!"
We all trooped into the kitchen and the whole four of us cross-examined
that family in turn, so that by the end of it we got a pretty good idea
of how the land lay.
It seemed that two years before, the Scollays had been visited by a
polite stranger apparently of the tourist species. This gentleman, after
admiring the healthy yet retired situation of their residence, had
suddenly been seized with an inspiration. The very place for an
unfortunate young man of his acquaintance! he cried, and thereupon asked
them if they could take charge of a blameless, helpless, harmless idiot.
The stranger hinted that there were the best of reasons why the parents
of this unfortunate wished him kept in the background. He had been
boarded out previously, it appeared, but too near home, and now here was
an ideal out-of-the-way spot for his retirement! The terms were so
handsome that further enquiries on the Scollays' part seemed superfluous,
and so in a week's time Jock had arrived.
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