"I did not know that," I answered, "but if I had, I should have said the same."
"Of course you would," she retorted bitterly. "A pretty face can muddle any man's judgment."
She turned away abruptly to resume her pursuit, and I followed in silence. The trail which we were following zigzagged through the thickest part of the wood, but its devious windings eventually brought us out on to an open space on the farther side. Here we at once perceived traces of another kind. A litter of dirty rags, pieces of paper, scraps of stale bread, bones and feathers, with hoof-marks, wheel ruts, and the ashes of a large wood fire, pointed clearly to a gipsy encampment recently broken up. I laid my hand on the heap of ashes, and found it still warm, and on scattering it with my foot a layer of glowing cinders appeared at the bottom.
"These people have only been gone an hour or two," I said. "It would be well to have them followed without delay."
A gleam of hope shone on the drawn, white face as the bereaved mother caught eagerly at my suggestion.
"Yes," she exclaimed breathlessly; "she may have bribed them to take him away. Let us see which way they went."
We followed the wheel tracks down to the road, and found that they turned towards London. At the same time I perceived the dogcart in the distance, with Mrs. Hanshaw standing beside it; and, as the coachman observed me, he whipped up his horse and approached.
"I shall have to go," I said, "but Mrs. Hanshaw will help you to continue the search."
"And you will make inquiries about the gipsies, won't you?" she said.
I promised to do so, and as the dogcart now came up, I climbed to the seat, and drove off briskly up the London Road.