“Nobbat theer own sens,” said the man, sulkily.
“Well, who gave them a lift?”
“Don’t know, on’y as it weer a man in a cart.”
“But you must ha’ seen his name.”
“No, I musn’t if it wern’t painted on,” bawled the man. “What d’yer come wherretin’ me for about it? I don’t ask my customers who comes in for a gill o’ ale wheer they come from, nor wheer they’re going.”
“Had they a young girl with them?” said the vicar, who was getting out of patience.
“Not as I know on,” said the man. “One had nobbut a whip.”
There was evidently nothing to be got out of him, so the party returned to Dumford, the policeman undertaking to communicate by telegraph with the towns through which the men would be likely to pass, as this would be the surest and quickest way.
As the day wore on, the other parties returned to assemble and discuss the matter; though there was little to discuss, for Joe Banks had returned without a trace being found of his child, and the same ill fortune had attended Podmore and Richard Glaire.
The latter, soon as he reached home, however, sought Mrs Glaire, who was lying down, apparently ill at ease, with Eve in attendance upon her, the young girl rising with a shiver as her cousin entered the room, and leaving without encountering his eyes.