“They carried me quite a way to somewhere in the wood,” said George. “Then they plonked me down at the back of the car. But they had to turn it and it was difficult — and I had the bright thought of throwing out all the things in my dressing-gown pocket just in case you came along and saw them.”

“What about that note — with the word Gringo on?” asked Julian. “That was a terrific help. We wouldn’t be here tonight if it hadn’t been for that.”

“Well, I heard one of the men call the other Gringo,” said George. “And it was such an unusual name I thought I’d scribble it on a bit of paper and throw that out too — it was just on chance I did it.”

“A jolly good chance!” said Dick. “Good thing you had a notebook and pencil with you!”

“I hadn’t,” said George, “but one of the men had left his coat in the back of the car and there was a notebook with a pencil in the breast-pocket. I just used that!”

“Jolly good!” said Julian.

“Well, they whizzed me off in a car to some Fair ground or other,” said George. “I heard the roundabout music next day. There was a horrid old witch-like woman in the caravan, she didn’t seem at all pleased to see me. I had to sleep in a chair that night, and I got so wild that I yelled and shouted and threw things about and smashed quite a lot of cups and saucers. I enjoyed that.”

The boys couldn’t help laughing. “Yes — I bet you did,” said Dick. “They had to move the caravan away from the Fair itself, because they were afraid people would hear you. In fact, I expect that’s why Gringo decided to hide you here!”

“Yes. I suddenly felt a jolt, and found the caravan we were in was being towed away!” said George. “I was awfully surprised. I waved at the windows and shouted as we drove through the streets, but nobody seemed to notice anything wrong — in fact some people waved back to me! Then we swung in through some gates, and came here — and, as I told you, they put me up here because I made such a nuisance of myself!”

“Did you tell them you weren’t Berta?” asked Dick.

“No,” said George. “Of course not. For two reasons — I knew there would be no fear of Berta’s father giving those secrets away, because he’d be told by you that I had been kidnapped, not his precious Berta. So he’d hang on to them. And also I thought Berta would be safe, so long as I didn’t tell the men they’d got the wrong person.”

“You’re a good kid, George,” said Julian, and slapped her gently on the back. “A — very — good — kid. I’m jolly proud of you. There’s nobody like our George!”

“Don’t be a fathead,” said George, but she was very pleased all the same.