‘It can’t have anything to do with Mo,’ Glenys was beginning, when Jimmy pounced on something which had rolled a short way away.

‘She was filling a bottle so the puppy could have a drink, and here’s the cork,’ he said triumphantly. ‘If she was surprised whilst filling it, it could have got dropped. But even that shouldn’t have stopped her getting on the train, unless she thought she saw . . .’

Mo lay in her little hideout until her heart stopped hammering and she was certain there were no signs of pursuit. Even then, however, she hesitated to leave the safety of the woods. She was sure the man who had shouted at her must have been Cyril, but in her mind the figure grew and grew until he was twice the size of Cyril and three times as dangerous. She had barely caught a glimpse of his face, but now it was clear in her mind: thick, angry eyebrows, dark pockmarked skin, mean little eyes and huge ham-like hands. If he had removed his hat, she felt sure it would have revealed a red spotted handkerchief and a black eyepatch; all the markings of a pirate, in fact. I ought to go back to the station, Mo told herself. Jimmy and Auntie Glenys will be worried when they realise I’m not in the guard’s van. But why haven’t they checked yet? She began to feel aggrieved. Cyril chased me into the woods and no one came to rescue me, even though I’m only little. Jimmy should have come to help me, and so should Glenys. It’s very wicked to leave someone to look after herself whilst you go off in a warm and comfortable train. Forgotten were the hours spent sitting, bored and cold, in the cheerless compartment as the train chugged deeper into the hills, and as dusk fell Mo got angrier and angrier. It wasn’t right. Auntie Glenys had said they must stick together, and what had she and Jimmy done? They had gone off, abandoned her, left her to be very nearly caught by their dreaded enemy. How she would reproach them when she saw them again; if she did ever see them again, that was.

But now, though the sound of pursuit had long since stopped, she fancied she could hear voices, and presently saw the gleam of artificial light as someone with a lantern made his or her way along the edge of the wood. Mo gave a squeak; she would know that voice anywhere! Oh, how she would give it to Jimmy when they met! She stood up and ran towards the light.

Despite her intentions, thoughts of revenge crumbled away the moment she emerged from the trees and flung herself into her brother’s arms. She had meant to blame him, to tell him and Auntie Glenys just what she thought of them, but instead common sense reasserted itself.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she wailed. ‘I was frightened.’

‘You little idiot,’ Jimmy said fondly, lifting her up to give her a big hug. ‘You said you were going to travel in the guard’s van, but you didn’t get on the train at all! Whatever happened to make you run into the woods instead of getting back on to the train? We thought . . . we thought someone had kidnapped you!’ The station porter had accompanied them on their search, and Jimmy was reluctant to mention Cyril’s name in front of a stranger who might demand all sorts of explanations. The warning glance he received from Glenys told him she felt the same, so when he saw the porter’s eyebrows shoot up he changed it to a joke. ‘To tell you the truth, queen, I thought you’d probably let the puppy out of the crate by accident and were searching the woods for it.’