"Good-bye, Virginia," and he smiled patronizingly at her. "You 'peached' on your pal, but rogues do that sometimes. Tra-la." "Officer, away with them," ordered Mr. Harris, with disgust. "Get a move on, old chappie," said Sam. "Come along," urged the detective. But Rutley balked, and looking at Mrs. Harris, laughed, the same high-pitched, uncanny laugh he had used previously. "I had almost forgotten you, Auntie," he drawled in his most suave and engaging manner. "You know that it is bad form to take one's leave without saying 'adieu,' and believe me," and he again laughed, "I thank you for your lavish reception in honor of the fake lord." "Officer, away with them," stormed Mr. Harris. Though Rutley was forced away a step or two he still kept his eyes fixed on Mrs. Harris, and managed to hold his ground long enough to add, ironically: "Adieu, Auntie! Ta, ta!" "March yees blackguards, march," said Smith, pushing the men along. "How very rude! I have never had anything so scurrilous said to me before in my life." "He wasn't a real lord, Auntie. Only tried to act like one, eh, I guess so," and Sam inwardly chuckled at the balm he offered for her discomfiture. "Sam, you had better assist the officers to the railway station," suggested Mr. Harris. "Oh, quite to my fancy, Uncle!" and Sam immediately proceeded after the detectives and their prisoners. The silence that fell on the group as they watched the prisoners move down the hill was broken by Hazel, who, turning to Mr. Harris, said: "It was clever of Sam. Indeed, Uncle, it seems to him is due the honor of breaking the spell of a pretender." "I am satisfied now that my lord will serve a 'spell' with his partner in the state penitentiary," replied Mr. Harris. "A fate that deservedly overtakes adventurers and imposters," remarked Mrs. Harris. "And a most pungent warning to the frantic race society runs to entertain titled swindlers!" added Mr. Harris, gravely. At that moment Sam hurriedly reappeared and approached Mr. Harris, who hastened to meet him. "What is wrong, Sam?" "Has he got away?" was the anxious inquiry. "I guess not, Uncle," replied Sam, who seemed excited, and then nodding his head toward the river, said, in an undertone. "Something out of gear down there. A boy just told me a woman was wading in the water trying to find her drowned baby--and--and I thought"-- "What! Who do you think she can be, eh? It cannot be"--And they exchanged significant glances. Sam tapped his head impressively. "The boy said she plunged her hands in the water, talked queer, and heard her call 'Dorothy.'" "If it should be her! Good God! And John must be hereabouts, too. Let us go to her at once. Quietly, make no fuss. Come along," and Mr. Harris turned hastily. "What is the trouble now, James?" called out Mrs. Harris. "No time," was all the satisfaction she got, and the two hastened down to the shingle.