“Had you any difficulties?”
“None whatever,” answered his father, crossing his legs and preparing to be communicative. “Stapleton had been all over the ground before and knew every point. We went first to Surbiton Workhouse, 25 since she told Felton she stayed there. They found the entry for us. Then we went on to Hartley, which is quite a small village and off the main road. We stayed the night there, and went to the cottage where Felton had seen her. It was quite true, all he said. The old woman remembered distinctly a tramp-looking man stopping and calling to her over the gate. They sat in the garden and talked together for some time. She and the boy had been there a month, but they went the day after Felton’s visit—seemed frightened, the old lady said. Apparently they meant to go to Southampton, for she had asked the way there. Basingstoke must have been the next stop, but we did not know where until the boy told us. They were in funds, so did not go to the House. We got to Whitmansworth the next afternoon. Then a strange thing happened, one of those chance coincidences that put to rout all our schemes. There is a hill going into Whitmansworth with a milestone on the top. I drove slowly, as I wanted to see if it really were the place, and by the stone was a small boy. The likeness was so absurd that it might have been ...” he stopped abruptly and examined his cigar, “had I not been seeking him I should have seen it. I found out his name, and that I was right, and took him up and drove to the Union. They raised no objections—it was only a matter of form. The master and his wife seem to be good people, and to have been kind to the boy.”
He came to a pause again. Aymer still waited. Mr. Aston walked to the window and looked out at the night, and then went on without turning:
“She had never left the slightest clue or given any hint whatever as to her identity. She was going to Southampton, she said. But she was dying of exhaustion then. They could do nothing for her. She asked them to keep the boy. The Mosses took a fancy to 26 him, and it was managed. She would not say where she came from.”
Aymer lay very still, his face set and immovable.
“The strength of her purpose: think of it, in a woman!” said Mr. Aston a little unsteadily; “the boy should have grit in him, Aymer.”
“What did they say of the boy?”
“Ah.” Mr. Aston resumed his seat with a sigh.
“Well, what’s your own impression, Aymer?”
“I am satisfied.”