Mrs. Ives went on to describe the boy. She spoke with glowing terms of his rosy face, his dark eyes and his black hair.
No, the clerk had seen no such little gentleman. He thought Mrs. Ives must be slightly off her head. She turned away in the darkness.
CHAPTER XXXII.
BARBARA HEARS STARTLING NEWS.
It was on the very day that Pelham was arrested on a charge of murder, and Barbara, happy and unconscious, had gone to Exeter to buy presents for the Christmas tree, that Mrs. Ives began her search for Piers. Having had time to think during the night, she resolved not to begin by going to Pelham Towers. The boy had no money, of that she was well aware. It would be out of his power to walk the distance from Falmouth to Great Pelham under several days, besides he would not know the way. Beyond doubt, he was still in the immediate neighborhood. Mrs. Ives would make inquiries in her own vicinity first.
“He’s such a pretty little dear that any one might kidnap him,” she said to herself. “I hope to goodness there ain’t no gipsies about. I’ll go to the different villages and make inquiries, and I’ll offer a reward. I’ll write it out and I’ll put it up on my door the first thing in the morning. I’ll spend a pound over Piers. It’s a deal of money, but I’ll spend it.”
So, taking tremendous pains, the little woman wrote in large characters:—
ONE POUND REWARD.
Wanted, a little boy, aged seven, named Piers. Complexion dark, with rosy cheeks, eyes dark and shining like stars. Black hair, all curled. A nobleman-in-disguise sort of appearance.
Having fashioned this description to her own mind, Mrs. Ives proceeded to post it on the door of her house. She had printed it partly, in red ink and partly in black. “Nobleman-in-disguise sort of appearance” was all done in red ink. It was the kind of advertisement to attract immediate attention. As soon as daylight came she began her round of the village. She then went to the neighboring villages. Wherever she went she made inquiries. Here and there she posted up her queer advertisement. She was very weary and tired now, but still her courage never flagged. She got no hint of the boy’s whereabouts from any one. No one had seen or heard of him, but all the villagers were interested and promised to look out. As far as they could tell, there were no gipsies in the neighborhood. Mrs. Ives went home.
“I must do it. I must go off to Pelham Towers afore the last train goes to night,” she said to herself. “But first I’ll just read this telegram from poor Clary.”