"Thank you," said my husband. "Which station had we better go to next?"
"The news will be at the farthest before you can reach the nearest," he answered. "We shall telegraph to the suburbs first."
"Then what more is there we can do?" asked Percivale.
"Nothing," said the inspector,—"except you find out whether any of the neighbors saw her, and when and where. It would be something to know in what direction she was going. Have you any ground for suspicion? Have you ever discharged a servant? Were any tramps seen about the place?"
"I know, who it is!" I cried. "It's the woman that took Theodora! It's
Theodora's mother! I know it is!"
Percivale explained what I meant.
"That's what people get, you see, when they take on themselves other people's business," returned the inspector. "That child ought to have been sent to the workhouse."
He laid his head on his hand for a moment.
"It seems likely enough," he added. Then after another pause—"I have your address. The child shall be brought back to you the moment she's found. We can't mistake her after your description."
"Where are you going now?" I said to my husband, as we left the station to re-enter the cab.