ng along the gells, sir," said he; "you and Andrew can manage
them."

"Let go!" said Cyril; "we aren't running away. We haven't hurt your old
church. Leave go!"

"You just come along," said the keeper; and Cyril dared not oppose him
with violence, because just then the syphon began to slip again.

So they were marched into the Vicarage study, and the Vicar's wife came
rushing in.

"Oh, William, _are_ you safe?" she cried.

Robert hastened to allay her anxiety.

"Yes," he said, "he's quite safe. We haven't hurt them at all. And
please, we're very late, and they'll be anxious at home. Could you send
us home in your carriage?"

"Or perhaps there's a hotel near where we could get a carriage," said
Anthea. "Martha will be very anxious as it is."

The Vicar had sunk into a chair, overcome by emotion and amazement.

Cyril had also sat down, and was leaning forward with his elbows on his
knees because of the soda-water syphon.

"But how did you come to be locked up in the church-tower?" asked the
Vicar.

"We went up," said Robert slowly, "and we were tired, and we all went to
sleep, and when we woke up we found the door was locked, so we yelled."

"I should think you did!" said the Vicar's wife. "Frightening everybody
out of their wits like this! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

"We _are_," said Jane gently.

"But who locked the door?" asked the Vicar.

"I don't know at all," said Robert, with perfect truth. "Do please send
us home."

"Well, really," said the Vicar, "I suppose we'd better. Andrew, put the
horse to, and you can take them home."

"Not alone, I don't," said Andrew to himself.

And the Vicar went on, "let this be a lesson to you"---- He went on
talking, and the children listened miserably. But the keeper was not
listening. He was looking at the unfortunate Cyril. He knew all about
poachers, of course, so he knew how people look when they're hiding
something. The Vicar had just got to the part about trying to grow up
to be a blessing to your parents, and not a trouble and disgrace, when
the keeper suddenly said--

"Arst him what he's got there under his jacket;" and Cyril knew that
concealment was at an end. So he stood up, and squared his shoulders and
tried to look noble, like the boys in books that no one can look in the
face of and doubt that they come of brave and noble families, and will
be faithful to the death, and he pulled out the syphon and said--

"Well, there you are, t