Bufflo began to look most disturbed. He turned on Jo.

“Why didn’t you tell us he was George’s father?” he said.

“I didn’t know it was,” said Jo. “I’ve never seen him, and anyway I thought…”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” said Uncle Quentin, looking at the dirty little girl in disgust. “I insist on the police being fetched.”

“Uncle Quentin, I’m sure it’s all been a mistake,” said Julian, “and anyway Mr. Terry-Kane has gone to the police himself.”

His uncle stared at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Terry-Kane? Where is he? What has happened? Is he found?”

“Yes. It’s rather a long story,” said Julian. “It all began when we saw that face at the window. I told Aunt Fanny all about that, Uncle, and she said she would tell you when you got back from London. Well — it was Mr. Terry-Kane at the window!”

“I thought so! I told your Aunt Fanny I had a feeling it was!” said his uncle. “That’s why I came as soon as ever I could — but you were none of you here. What happened to you?”

“Well, that’s part of the story, Uncle,” said Julian, patiently. “But I say, do you mind if we have something to eat. We’re practically dead from starvation — haven’t had anything since yesterday!”

That ended the interview for the time being! Mrs. Alfredo bustled about, and soon there was a perfectly glorious meal set in front of the five half-starved children. They sat round a camp-fire and ate and ate and ate.

Mrs. Alfredo practically emptied her big pot for them. Timmy was surrounded by plates of scraps and big bones brought by every member of the camp! Almost every minute someone loomed up out of the darkness with a plate of something or other either for the hungry children, or for Timmy.

At last they really could eat no more, and Julian began to tell their extraordinary story. Dick took it up, and George added quite a few bits. Jo interrupted continually and even Timmy put in a few barks. Only Anne said nothing. She was leaning against her uncle, fast asleep.

“I never heard such a tale in my life,” said Uncle Quentin, continually. “Never! Fancy that fellow Pottersham going off with Terry-Kane like that. I knew Terry-Kane was all right — he wouldn’t let his country down. Now, Pottersham I never did like. Well, go on.”

The fair-folk were as enthralled as Uncle Quentin with the tale. They came closer and closer as the story of the secret passages, the hidden room, the stone stairways and the rest was unfolded.

They got very excited when they learnt how Bufflo had appeared in the tower-room and had flicked the gun out of Pottersham’s hand. Uncle Quentin threw back his head and roared when he heard that bit.

“What a shock for that fellow!” he said. “I’d like to have seen his face. Well, well — I never heard such a tale in my life!”