“When the children did so, it was found that there were five children missing. Harding’s three little girls and Meal’s two had disappeared. “The Head Mistress was furious, thinking they had all gone off together, and were playing truant. She sent a message round to the parents, so John Meal left his work in the fields, and insisted on a search being made. He swore it was the ‘Curse’ and that if he found his children he would find them in company with Harding’s, and Dan’s boy.” “Do you think it is a band of gypsies at work?” suggested Alan. “There have been no gypsies near Marshfielden for over five years, they say. Besides that, the extraordinary thing is, the children disappeared from the playground.” “Well?” “There is a ten foot wall all round it, so it is impossible for them to have climbed over. The only way out is past the Head Mistress’ desk. She was sitting there the whole of the break, and declares that for the whole ten minutes of the luncheon time, the hall was entirely deserted and no one passed her. It seems impossible for them to have left the playground that way, and equally impossible by the front entrance.” “Why it sounds like witchcraft,” said Alan. A voice startled them. It was Mrs. Slater; her eyes red from weeping. “I beg of you two young gentlemen to go,” she sobbed. “The ‘Curse’ is upon us.” “We are going,” said Alan gently, “but we will do our utmost to discover the children. Now let us have our account.” But the woman threw out her hands before her with a cry. “No-No-Not a penny, sir.” “Oh, come, Mrs. Slater, don’t be foolish. Let us have our bill,” urged Alan. But Mrs. Slater was obdurate. “It’s only two days you owe me, sir, and I wouldn’t touch a penny. You are quite welcome to what you’ve had, only go—go!” It was useless to argue and they left the house with heavy hearts, and went toward the blacksmith’s in order to ask some one to take their luggage away for them. “Good morning, Jim,” said Alan pleasantly as they reached the forge. The man looked up and greeted them carefully, and as he saw Alan about to step across the threshold he gave a cry. “Do’ant ’ee put your foot inside, gentlemen, do’ant ’ee please! Oh, the ‘Curse’ be upon us all!” The boys shrugged their shoulders helplessly, and Alan spoke quickly. “Send your boy up to Mrs. Slater’s, will you, Jim? We want our luggage taken from there to Mrs. Warren’s cottage at Corlot.” “You be agoin’ away?” asked the man eagerly. “Yes.” “I be mighty glad, sirs. I do’ant mean to be rude, sirs, of course we shall miss you sorely, but the ‘Curse’ has hit us sore hard since you came.” “Then you’ll send your boy, Jim?” Jim scratched his head. “Couldn’t you manage it yourselves?” “Surely it won’t harm you to help us out of Marshfielden?” said Alan bitterly. “I do’ant rightly know, sir, but—” “Well?” “I’d rather lend you my trolley, sir, than my boy. I do be mighty feared of the ‘Curse’.”