She tole Mr. Fenshawe to demand von Kerber's release. He was the on'y
man who could handle Alfie, she said, an', wot between our commodore's
threat to land an armed force, an' the red-hot cables he's bin sendin'
to London an' Rome, sink me if the Governor isn't scared to death."
"Is the Baron at liberty, then?"
"Not yet. There's no knowin' wot might have happened if you'd kep away
another hour or two. The ole man has raised Cain, I can tell you. But,
look here, I'm doin' all the talkin', an' it ain't fair."
"Did no one tell you a few minutes ago that Miss Fenshawe had escaped
and was hurrying here with me?"
"Ax me another," growled Stump. Then he eyed Royson critically. "I know
wot's wrong with you," he went on. "You're light-headed for want of a
drink. Come out of it. Damme, you need lubricatin'!"
They went to the upper floor, and Mr. Fenshawe hurried to grasp Dick's
hand.
"I will not endeavor to thank you now," he said brokenly. "My gratitude
is too deep for words, but--believe me, Mr. Royson--if I had lost my
little girl--it would have killed me.
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