And then it was Jo’s turn to tell how she had followed the four men into the secret passages, and had set Beauty, the python, on to the men. She began to laugh again as she told her tale, and soon all the fair-folk were laughing in sympathy, rocking to and fro, with tears streaming down their faces.

Only Uncle Quentin looked rather solemn at this point. He remembered how he had felt when, because of his shouting, the fair-folk had sent the python into his caravan, and almost frightened him out of his life.

“Mr. Slither, please do get Beauty,” begged Jo. “He ought to listen to his part of the story. He was wonderful. He enjoyed it all too. I’m sure he would have laughed if only snakes could laugh.”

Poor Uncle Quentin didn’t like to object when the snake-man fetched his beloved python — in fact, he fetched both of them, and they had never had such a fuss made of them before. They were patted and rubbed and pulled about in a way they both seemed to enjoy hugely.

“Let me hold Beauty, Mr. Slither,” said Jo, at last, and she draped him round her neck like a long, shiny fur. Uncle Quentin looked as if he was going to be sick. He would certainly have got up and gone away if it hadn’t been that his favourite niece Anne was fast asleep against his shoulder.

“What extraordinary people George seems to be friends with,” he thought. “I suppose they are all right — but really! What with whips and knives and snakes I must say I find all this very peculiar.”

“Somebody’s coming up the field,” said Jo, suddenly. “It’s — yes, it’s Mr. Terry-Kane, and he’s got three policemen with him.”

Immediately almost all the fair-folk melted away into the darkness. They knew quite well why the police had come — not for them, but because of Mr. Pottersham and his unpleasant friends. But all the same they wanted nothing to do with the three burly policemen walking up the hill with Terry-Kane.

Uncle Quentin leapt to his feet as soon as he saw Terry-Kane. He ran to meet him joyfully, and pumped his arm up and down, up and down, shaking hands so vigorously that Terry-Kane felt quite exhausted.

“My dear fellow,” said Uncle Quentin, “I’m so glad you’re safe. I told everyone you weren’t a traitor, and never could be — everyone! I went up to London and told them. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Well — it’s thanks to these children,” said Terry-Kane, who looked very tired. “I expect you’ve heard the peculiar and most extraordinary tale of the Face at the Window.”

“Yes — it’s all so extraordinary that I shouldn’t believe it if I read it in a book,” said Uncle Quentin. “And yet it all happened! My dear fellow, you must be very tired!”

“I am,” said Terry-Kane. “But I’m not going to lie down and sleep until those other fellows are safely under lock and key — Pottersham and his fine friends! Do you mind if I leave you for a bit, and go off to the castle again? We simply must catch those fellows. I came to ask if one of the children could go with us, because I hear we have to creep through all kinds of passages and galleries and up spiral stairways and goodness knows what.”