"What? Why, 'eaps of things," returned his sire rather feebly. "It's all wrong. The country's full o' spies, for one thing. Full of 'em. 'Ow do we know 'oo's a spy an' 'oo isn't?--tell me that. Look 'ere, at this 'ere Denmore Manor business. We've 'ad the papers full o' that for a week past, an' not a single arrest made. It's my belief that Capital won't let 'em make any arrests, that's what I think. Disgustin', I call it!" "'Ow d'you know there _was_ spies at Denmore Manor?" asked Alf, in whom the innocent accusation rankled deeply. "Didn't it say there was niggers? An' didn't the paper 'ave a picture o' the little boy as they kidnaped--_'e_ said they was spies, an' _'e_ ought to know, 'e ought. An' yet them blighters is allowed to escape, an' they must be all over the country now, an' yet nothing's done." "What's the paper say?" asked Bill calmly. Mr. Higgins, much pleased, puffed out his chest and read. "'The mystery of the whereabouts of the late occupants of Denmore Manor continues to arouse a great deal of public interest. No light has yet been thrown either on the reason for its occupation or upon the method whereby these mysterious people have made good their escape. The police have now a strong clew as to the identity of the ringleaders, and they are following this up.' And I 'ope to 'Eaven," concluded the reader piously, "as 'ow it'll come to something. But I'll bet it's a blinkin' washout. The police is no good." Alf and Bill stared blankly at one another. "A strong clew ... they are following it up." The words sounded ominous. And yet--what _could_ the clew be? Mr. Higgins, continuing his scathing denunciation of the police, found that he had lost the attention of his audience. Alf was raising enquiring eyebrows in Bill's direction, while Bill was shaking his head. He had no idea what the "clew"--if such existed--might be. The elder Higgins regarded this pantomime with growing indignation for a moment. "It don't seem to matter to you much _what_ 'appens," he said coldly at last. "If _I_ was out at the front, an' came back an' found the country in this kind o' state, I'd ... I'd...." His vocabulary suddenly proved unequal to the strain placed upon it, and he tailed off into silence. "_I_ don't believe they was spies at all," said Alf doggedly. "Not spies?" His father's voice quivered with righteous indignation. "Well, what about this 'ere parson, then?--tell me that." Alf, who had forgotten Mr. Davies' very existence, remembered suddenly, that in the hurry of departure he had left that unfortunate clergyman and his wife still laboring under the disability so ruthlessly imposed upon them. His conscience smote him. "Why," he asked uneasily, "what's wrong with 'im? 'As 'e being gettin' into trouble?" "No, but 'e blinkin' well ought to!" "What's 'e done?"