"That over there" was a shabby brown caravan, hung about with tins
and brushes, standing beneath a high hedge in a corner of a distant
field. From the road beneath it, it would not be visible to any
passer-by, but looking across country as they were the glitter of the
tins flashing in the rays of the morning sun caught the eye, and
discovered the van in its hiding-place.
"Here goes!" cried the policeman, excitedly. "A chap don't get a
chance like this every day. Come along, young fellow, and don't make
a noise."
Avoiding every possible risk of being observed approaching, Bob
Thorp, led by the constable, made his way to the field where the
caravan stood. Tethered to the hedge close by was Charlie, and
securely roped to the van lay poor Dick.
"That's the dog," whispered Bob Thorp, excitedly.
Dick growled slightly at the faint sounds which now reached him, and
more violently when he recognised his old enemy.
"Lie down, can't you?" bellowed a hoarse voice, roughly; and walking
cautiously round to the front of the van they found the very man they
were in search of lying on the ground rolled in a rug, with a couple
of sacks over him. At the sight of Bob Thorp and the policeman he
sprang to his feet at once.
"Anything you want, gentlemen? Anything I can sell you?" he asked,
impudently.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116