"A small girl, you say? What age?"
"About ten, as nearly as I can guess. A slip of a child, very poorly dressed, and walking with a decided limp."
"I follow you this far," said Mr. Hucks, ruminating. "—Allowin' there's a plot, if 'tis worth folks' while to get hold o' the child, 'tis worth your while to get him back from 'em. But are you sure there's a plot? There it don't seem to me you've made out your case."
Mr. Hucks said it thoughtfully, but his mind was not working with his speech. The coals, as he knew—though he did not propose to tell the Doctor, at any rate just yet—had been delivered by Sam Bossom. Of complicity in any such plot as this Sam was by nature incapable. On the other hand, Sam was just the fellow to help a couple of children out of mere kindness of heart. Mr. Hucks decided to have a talk with Sam before committing himself. He suspected, of course—nay, was certain—that Glasson had kept back something important.
Thus his meditations were running when the Doctor's reply switched the current in a new direction.
"You have not heard the whole of it. As it happens, the man in charge of the coal-boat was not, as I should judge, one of your regular employees—certainly not an ordinary bargeman—but a person whose speech betrayed him as comparatively well educated."
"Eh?" Mr. Hucks sat upright and stared.
"I am not suggesting—"
"No, damme—you 'd better not!" breathed Mr. Hucks.
"Very possibly he had bribed your man with the price of a pot of beer.
At all events, there he was, and in charge of the boat."