“But they made all sail last Thursday night,” joined in the sailor.
“A tall woman, and a man with a patch over his eye,” said the lawyer, examining his paper.
“That’s ’em,” cried Jonas; “an ill-looking pair, and a sight worse than they look.”
“Can you tell me in which direction they went?” said the stranger, addressing himself to the sailor.
“Not I, sir,” replied honest Jonas.
“They have a child with them, have they not—a little girl?”
“They had a child, sir, but they tied her up like a dog, and left her behind when they made off.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the lawyer eagerly; “and have you any knowledge where she may be now?”
“I should think that I have, seeing she’s just alongside,” cried Jonas, looking round for poor Madge, who, alarmed at finding herself the subject of conversation, had slunk behind her little friend Alie.
All the lawyer’s attention was now turned towards Madge. He fixed his piercing gaze upon the timid child, questioned and cross-questioned her without mercy, not only about events which had happened recently, but, as it appeared to Johnny and Alie, about everything that could possibly have occurred in the whole course of a gipsy’s life. The dinner on the table was becoming quite cold; but the stranger had as little apparent regard for the hunger of the family as he had for the feelings of Madge. He wrote down most of the replies which he drew from her shy, reluctant lips, and concluded by proposing that she should accompany him in the post-chaise, as there was very important business connected with the child.