Berta looked extremely scared by now, and was inclined to refuse to go. Julian put his arm round her.

“Look,” he said, “I bet George is holding her tongue so that we can get you away in safety before the men tumble to the fact that they’ve got the wrong boy — so you can play up, too, can’t you, and be brave?”

“Yes,” said Berta, looking up at Julian’s kind, serious face. “I’ll do what you say — but what’s this Jo like? Joan said she was a little gypsy girl. I don’t like gypsies.”

“You’ll like this one all right,” said Julian. “She’s a pickle and a scamp and a scallywag — but her heart’s in the right place — isn’t it, Joan?”

Joan nodded. She had always been fond of the reckless, cheeky little Jo, and it was she who had found a home for her when Jo’s father had had to go to prison. “Come on, Master Leslie,” she said. “We must hurry. Master Julian, is she to go as a girl or a boy now — we’ve got to decide that too.”

“A girl, please — please, please, a girl!” said Berta, at once.

Julian considered. “Yes, I think you’re right,” he said. “You’d better be a girl now — but for goodness sake don’t call yourself Berta yet.”

“She can be Jane,” said Joan, firmly. “That’s a nice name, but quite ordinary enough for nobody to notice. Berta is too noticeable a name. Come along now — we’ll have to pick out your simplest clothes!”

“Now I’ll ring up the police,” said Julian, “and also ring for a taxi.”

“No, don’t get a taxi for us,” said Joan. “I don’t want to arrive at my cousin’s little cottage in a taxi, and make everyone stare! Jane and I will catch the market bus and people will think I’m going off to market. We can get another bus there, that will take us almost all the way to my cousin’s. We’ve only to walk down the lane then.”

“Good idea,” said Julian, and went to the telephone. He got hold of the police sergeant, and told his tale. The man showed not the least excitement, but took down quickly all that Julian told him. “I’ll be up in ten minutes,” he said. “Wait in till I come.”

Julian put down the receiver. Dick and Anne were watching him with troubled eyes. What was happening to George? Was she frightened — or furious — or perhaps hurt?

Timmy was absolutely miserable. He knew by now that something had happened to George. He had gone a dozen times to the place where her dressing-gown girdle had been found, and had sniffed round disconsolately.

Sally knew he was unhappy and trotted after him soberly. When he lay down she lay down beside him. When he got up, she got up too. It would have been amusing to watch if anyone had felt like being amused. But nobody felt that way!