Confess, Mr .-- confess, sir, your game is up.

Kidnapping is an ugly offence in this country, and, in short, I advise you without more ado to hand over the two children." Mr.Gavel leaned back against a crane for support.
"Children?
What children ?" he repeated, staring.
Clearly here was some hideous blunder, and he perceived at length that the person addressing him in no way resembled a bargee.
"But--but my hosses ?" he gasped.
Just then the sound of wheels fell on his ears, and both men faced about.

Mr.Gavel made sure that this must be old Holly with his wagon.
But no; there came around the corner a cart with a single horse, driven by a lad; and the lad, pulling up before the store, went in, and in less than a minute reappeared staggering under a heavy burden.
"But, Hallo!" cried Mr.Gavel, pulling himself together, and striding towards the cart.

"It _is_--" he began incredulously; but after a second look raised his voice in triumphant recognition and demand.
"My hosses! What are you doing with my hosses ?" "Yours, be they ?" the lad answered.

"Well, I'm takin' 'em to Henley, as you sent word." "_I_ sent word ?" echoed Mr.Gavel.
"_Somebody_ sent word," the lad persisted.