“Good thing too,” Danny said, shoving a whole potato in his mouth. When he’d swallowed it, he added, “Wouldn’ta made any difference anyway.”

“Why not?”

Again the two boys exchanged glances. “Are you sure Mr. Jephcott’s not here anymore?”

“Mrs. Harris has gone to check,” George assured him. “We’ll know in a few moments. So go on—what happened next? I want to know how you escaped—I presume it was Danny who escaped?”

“Yes, I followed them,” Phillip said, “and I saw where they took him. It was a little tumbledown shed over the back beyond the mill.”

“So then what did you do?”

Again the boys hesitated, but at that moment, Mrs. Harris returned. “Jephcott’s gone,” she announced breathlessly. “All his things are gone too—he’s made a clean sweep. One of the maids said she saw him creeping off yesterday morning—would you believe it? Without a word to anyone.”

Phillip gave a satisfied nod. “I was all ready to go for help and tell people what I’d seen and where Danny was—”

“—and then he seen old Jephcott comin’ right up to the shed where they had me trussed up like a Christmas goose—” Danny continued.

“Yes, and he knocked and then walked right in,” Phillip said indignantly. “And half an hour later he came out again—”

“—and left me in there with those rotten bast—”

“Bad men, he means,” Phillip interrupted hurriedly, with an apologetic glance at George. “So then I wondered, if Mr. Jephcott was in league with the kidnappers, who else might be involved?” He glanced at the housekeeper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harris. I didn’t know who to trust.”

“Never you mind, Master Phillip,” she assured him warmly. “It weren’t none of us. We’ve all been worried sick about you. That wicked man. I never liked him, you know. None of us did. He thought himself so superior with his Latin and his Greek.”

“I’m sorry to be suspicious,” Phillip continued. “And for hiding. I didn’t want anyone to find out that Danny wasn’t me, because . . .” He hesitated.

Danny said bluntly, “Because he knew me old man wouldn’t cough up a farthing for my sake.”

“Yes, and then Danny would be in danger,” Phillip said. “And he was my responsibility.”

Hart nodded in approval. “You did the right thing.”

“So how did you escape, Danny?” George asked.

Phillip grinned. “I stole a couple of bottles of brandy from the cellar. I know where the key is kept and I sneaked in one night. I left them near the shed, and when the men got drunk, I let Danny out.”

“Clever boy!” George congratulated him.

“But what about your shoes and the breeches in the lake?” Hart asked after a moment.