"To--to Woodend Lane," he answered, shortly, wondering distractedly
how he could avoid giving true explanations; but the policeman, to
his relief, did not press the matter further, and whatever his
thoughts were, he kept them to himself.

Presently he asked, casually, "Where was the child he wanted to get
hold of? In Woodend Lane?"

"Yes--I mean I dunno. I don't know nothing about it."

"I only asked, 'cause we've had word to keep a look-out for a man,
probably with a caravan, who has stolen a child and a dog from
Wood--"

"Why, look, what's that over there?" interrupted Bob, in sudden
excitement.

"That over there" was a shabby brown caravan, hung about with tins
and brushes, standing beneath a high hedge in a corner of a distant
field. From the road beneath it, it would not be visible to any
passer-by, but looking across country as they were the glitter of the
tins flashing in the rays of the morning sun caught the eye, and
discovered the van in its hiding-place.

"Here goes!" cried the policeman, excitedly. "A chap don't get a
chance like this every day. Come along, young fellow, and don't make
a noise."

Avoiding every possible risk of being observed approaching, Bob