"He must have stolen them," I heard the people say when they saw the prices. If they had glanced at my shamed looks, they would have known that they were right in their suppositions.

If they did not notice me, Mattia did. "How much longer can you bear this?" he asked.

I was silent.

"Let us go back to France," he urged again. "I feel that something is going to happen, and going to happen soon. Don't you think sooner or later the police will get on to Driscoll, seeing how cheap he's selling the things? Then what'll happen?"

"Oh, Mattia...."

"If you will keep your eyes shut I must keep mine open. We shall both be arrested and we haven't done anything, but how can we prove that? Aren't we eating the food that is paid for by the money that he gets for these things?"

I had never thought of that; it struck me now like a blow in the face.

"But we earn our food," I stammered, trying to defend ourselves.

"That's true, but we're living with thieves," replied Mattia, speaking more frankly than he had ever done before, "and then if we're sent to prison, we can't look for your family. And I'm anxious to see Mrs.

Milligan to warn her against that James Milligan. You don't know what he might not do to Arthur. Let us go while we can."

"Let me have a few more days to think it over, Mattia," I said.

"Hurry up, then. Jack the Giant Killer smelled flesh--I smell danger."

Circ.u.mstances did for me what I was afraid to do. Several weeks had pa.s.sed since we left London. My father had set up his caravans in a town where the races were about to be held. As Mattia and I had nothing to do with selling the goods, we went to see the race-course, which was at some distance from the town. Outside the English race-courses there is usually a fair going on. Mountebanks of all descriptions, musicians, and stall holders gather there two or three days in advance.

We were pa.s.sing by a camp fire over which a kettle was hanging when we recognized our friend Bob, who had been with Mattia in the circus. He was delighted to see us again. He had come to the races with two friends and was going to give an exhibition of strength. He had engaged some musicians but they had failed him at the last moment and he was afraid that the performance the next day would be a failure. He had to have musicians to attract a crowd. Would we help him out? The profits would be divided between the five of us that made up the company. There would even be something for Capi, for he would like to have Capi perform his tricks in the intervals. We agreed and promised to be there the next day at the time he mentioned.

When I told of this arrangement to my father he said that he wanted Capi and that we could not have him. I wondered if they were going to make my dog do some dirty trick. From my look my father guessed my thoughts.

"Oh, it's all right," he said; "Capi's a good watch dog; he must stand by the caravans. In a crowd like we shall have we might easily be robbed. You two go alone and play with your friend Bob, and if you are not finished until late, which will be quite likely, you can join us at the Old Oak Tavern. We shall go on our way again to-morrow."

We had spent the night before at the Old Oak Tavern, which was a mile out on a lonely road. The place was kept by a couple whose appearance did not inspire one with confidence. It was quite easy to find this place. It was on a straight road. The only annoying thing was that it was a long walk for us after a tiring day.

But when my father said a thing I had to obey. I promised to be at the Tavern. The next day, after tying Capi to the caravan, where he was to be on guard, I hurried off to the race-course with Mattia.

We began to play as soon as we arrived and kept it up until night. My fingers ached as though they had been p.r.i.c.ked with a thousand pins and poor Mattia had blown his cornet so long that he could scarcely breathe.

It was past midnight. Just as they were doing their last turn a big bar of iron which they were using in their feats fell on Mattia's foot. I thought that his foot was broken. Fortunately it was only severely bruised. No bones were broken, but still he could not walk.

It was decided that he should stay there that night with Bob and that I should go on alone to the Old Oak Tavern, for I had to know where the Driscoll family was going the next day. All was dark when I reached the tavern. I looked round for the caravans. They were nowhere to be seen.

All I could see, beside one or two miserable wagons, was a big cage from which, as I drew near, came the cry of a wild beast. The beautiful gaudy colored caravans belonging to the Driscoll family were gone.

I knocked at the tavern door. The landlord opened it and turned the light from his lantern full on my face. He recognised me, but instead of letting me go in he told me to hurry after my parents, who had gone to Lewes, and said that I'd better not lose any time joining them. Then he shut the door in my face.

Since I had been in England I had learned to speak English fairly well.

I understood clearly what he said, but I had not the slightest idea where Lewes was situated, and besides I could not go, even if I found out the direction, and leave Mattia behind. I began my weary tramp back to the race-course; an hour later I was sleeping beside Mattia in Bob's wagon.

The next morning Bob told me how to get to Lewes and I was ready to start. I was watching him boil the water for breakfast when I looked up from the fire and saw Capi being led towards us by a policeman. What did it mean? The moment Capi recognized me he gave a tug at his leash and escaping from the officer bounded toward me and jumped into my arms.

"Is that your dog?" asked the policeman.

"Yes."

"Then come with me, you're under arrest."

He seized me by the collar.

"What do you mean by arresting him?" cried Bob, jumping up from the fire.

"Are you his brother?"

"No, his friend."

"Well, a man and a boy robbed St. George's Church last night. They got up a ladder and went through the window. This dog was there to give the alarm. They were surprised in the act and in their hurry to get out by the window, the dog was left in the church. I knew that with the dog I'd be sure to find the thieves; here's one, now where's his father?"

I could not utter a word. Mattia, who had heard the talk, came out of the caravan and limped over to me. Bob was telling the policeman that I could not be guilty because I had stayed with him until one o'clock, then I went to the Old Oak Tavern and spoke to the landlord there, and came back here at once.

"It was a quarter after one that the church was entered," said the officer, "and this boy left here at one o'clock so he could have met the other and got to the church."

"It takes more than a quarter of an hour to go from here to the town,"

said Bob.

"On the run, no," replied the policeman, "and what proves that he left here at one o'clock?"

"I can prove it; I swear it," cried Bob.

The policeman shrugged his shoulders. "This boy can explain to the magistrate," he said.

As I was being led away, Mattia threw his arms about my neck, as though it was because he wanted to embrace me, but Mattia had another object.

"Keep up your courage," he whispered, "we won't forsake you."

"Take care of Capi," I said in French, but the officer understood.

"Oh, no," he said; "I'll keep that dog. He helped me to find you; he may help me to find the other."

Handcuffed to the policeman I had to pa.s.s under the gaze of a crowd of people, but they did not jeer me like the peasants in France had done at my first arrest; these people, almost all of them, were antagonistic to the police; they were gypsies, tramps, in fact, the Bohemian vagabond.

There were no onions strewn over this prison where I was now locked up.

This was a real jail with iron bars at the windows, the sight of which put all thought of escape from my mind. In the cell there was only a bench and a hammock. I dropped onto the bench and remained for a long time with my head buried in my hands. Mattia and Bob, even with the help of other friends, could never get me away from here. I got up and went over to the window; the bars were strong and close together. The walls were three feet thick. The ground beneath was paved with large stones.

The door was covered with a plate of sheet iron.... No, I could not escape.

I began to wonder if it would be possible for me to prove my innocence, despite Capi's presence in the church. Mattia and Bob could help me by proving an alibi. If they could prove this I was saved in spite of the mute testimony that my poor dog had carried against me. I asked the jailer when he brought in some food if it would be long before I should appear before the magistrate. I did not know then that in England you are taken into court the day after arrest. The jailer, who seemed a kindly sort of man, told me that it would certainly be the next day.

I had heard tales of prisoners finding messages from their friends in the food that was brought in to them. I could not touch my food, but I at once began to crumble my bread. I found nothing inside. There were some potatoes also; I mashed them to a pulp, but I found not the tiniest note. I did not sleep that night.

The next morning the jailer came into my cell carrying a jug of water and a basin. He told me to wash myself if I wished to, for I was to appear before the judge, and a good appearance never went against one.

When the jailer returned he told me to follow him. We went down several pa.s.sages, then came to a small door which he opened.

"Pa.s.s in," he said.