brushed by an officious small boy. A broad, ugly road ran downhill in a

long vista, and in the distance was a little group of Botley inhabitants

holding the big, black horse. Even at that distance they could see

the expression of conscious pride on the monster's visage. It was as

wooden-faced a horse as you can imagine. The beasts in the Tower of

London, on which the men in armour are perched, are the only horses I

have ever seen at all like it. However, we are not concerned now with

the horse, but with Dangle. "Hurt?" asked Phipps, eagerly, leading.

"Mr. Dangle!" cried Mrs. Milton, clasping her hands.

Hullo!" said Dangle, not surprised in the slightest. "Glad you've come.

I may want you. Bit of a mess I'm in--eigh? But I've caught 'em. At the

very place I expected, too."

"Caught them!" said Widgery. "Where are they?"

"Up there," he said, with a backward motion of his head. "About a mile

up the hill. I left 'em. I HAD to."

"I don't understand," said Mrs. Milton, with that rapt, painful look

again. "Have you found Jessie?"

I have. I wish I could wash the gravel out of my hands somewhere. It

was like this, you know. Came on them suddenly round a corner. Horse

shied at the bicycles. They were sitting by the roadside botanising

175

The Wheels of Chance