“Oh — the men,” said Jo, wiping her eyes and trying to stop laughing. “They’re all right. Beauty chased them back to the tower-room, and I bolted them in. They’re still there, I expect — unless they dare to get down the peg-rope, which I bet they won’t!”

Bufflo gave a short laugh. “You did well, Jo,” he said. “You and Beauty!”

He gave a sharp order to Alfredo and the rubber-man, who went back over the wall and into the courtyard to watch if the men slid down the peg-rope.

“I think it would be a good idea to get the police now,” said Terry-Kane, beginning to feel that he must be in some kind of extraordinary dream, with peg-ropes and whips and knives and snakes turning up in such a peculiar manner. “That fellow Pottersham is dangerous. He’s a traitor, and must be caught before he gives away all that he knows about the work he and I have been doing.”

“Right,” said Bufflo. “We’ve got another fellow locked up too — in an empty caravan.”

“But — didn’t he escape then?” said Jo, surprised. “I thought that man Pottersham, who’s up in the tower-room now, was the one we locked up.”

“The one we locked up is still locked up,” said Bufflo grimly.

“But who is he, then?” said Terry-Kane, bewildered.

“We’ll soon find out,” said Bufflo. “Come on, let’s get going now. It’s very late, you kids must be dying of hunger, somebody ought to go to the police, and I want to get back to camp.”

“Alfredo and the rubber-man will keep guard on the peg-rope,” said Mr. Slither, still fondling Beauty. “There is no need to stay here any longer.”

So down the hill they went, talking nineteen to the dozen. Terry-Kane went off to the police-station and to telephone what he vaguely called “the high-up authorities.” The five children began to think hungrily of something to eat and drink! Timmy ran to the stream as soon as they reached the field and began to lap thirstily.

“Let’s just find out if you know the fellow we’ve got locked up in this caravan,” said Bufflo, when they got to the camp. “He seems the only unexplained bit so far.”

He unlocked the caravan, and called loudly. “Come on out. We want to know who you are!” He held up a lamp, and the man inside came slowly to the door.

There was a shout of amazement from all the children. “Uncle Quentin!” cried Julian, Dick and Anne. “Father!” shouted George. “What ARE you doing here?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Having a wonderful time!

There was a minute or two of silence. Everyone was most astonished. To think that George’s father had been locked up like that! It had been Jo’s mistake, of course — she had been so sure he was Mr. Pottersham.

“Julian,” said Uncle Quentin, very much on his dignity, and also very angry, “I must ask you to go and get the police here. I was set on and locked up in this caravan for no reason at all.”