Sir Henry Smith shook his head and smiled, but very hopelessly.
Mr. Sands was listening with grave and eager interest.
"And do I understand that you think——" he began.
"I only want to know this," said Colonel Maxwell, his voice trembling with impatience. "As I waited by the church door just now, I saw a little girl with fair hair, the age that my child would have been. She was dressed in white. There was something about her that made me feel almost sure—in fact, I am sure. Who is that child?"
"Did she go away with one of my choir-men—a tall, dark fellow?"
"Exactly—she did."
"It was a little girl they call Lily——"
"Lily! Her name!"
"Yes, my dear sir. One moment, and you shall know all. The young man with whom you saw her is John Randal the blacksmith—a good fellow, the best fellow in the village."
"One of the old Randals? Of course I know all about them. The best blacksmiths in the county," said Sir Henry.