Meantime the police and many of the neighboring gentry came about the miserable mother with their vague ideas.
Down comes Falcon again next day; tells what he has done, and treats them all with contempt. “Don't you be afraid, Mrs. Staines,” said he. “You will get him back. I have taken the sure way. This sort of rogues dare not go near the police, and the police can't find them. You have no enemies; it is only some woman that has fancied a beautiful child. Well, she can have them by the score, for a thousand pounds.”
He was the only one with a real idea; the woman saw it, and clung to him. He left late at night.
Next morning out came the advertisements, and he sent her a handful by special messenger. His zeal and activity kept her bereaved heart from utter despair.
At eleven that night came a telegraph:—
“I have got him. Coming down by special train.”
Then what a burst of joy and gratitude! The very walls of the house seemed to ring with it as a harp rings with music. A special train, too! he would not let the mother yearn all night.
At one in the morning he drove up with the child and a hired nurse.
Imagine the scene! The mother's screams of joy, her furious kisses, her cooing, her tears, and all the miracles of nature at such a time. The servants all mingled with their employers in the general rapture, and Emily, who was pale as death, cried and sobbed, and said, “Oh, ma'am, I'll never let him out of my sight again, no, not for one minute.” Falcon made her a signal, and went out. She met him in the garden.
She was much agitated, and cried, “Oh, you did well to bring him to-day. I could not have kept it another hour. I'm a wretch.”