But whither was she to turn?
She took some steps towards the preventive station rather because she knew not where else to go than with any expectation of obtaining tidings there. She had not gone far before she came upon a man, one of the service, on the watch.
At her demand he replied that he could supply her with no information.
'It is of no use whatever your going to the station,' said he; 'no one there can help you.'
She turned irresolutely and wandered not knowing whither she went, first in one direction, then in another. Her appearance was forlorn; half-clothed, with dishevelled hair, and with face white with despair.
She came repeatedly on men upon the watch. To each she put her question, always to receive the same discouraging answer.
In her dazed condition she did not consider that it was strange that she should encounter so many men on the alert at so raw an hour. She could think of but one topic—her loss.
Then an idea came glimmering into her clouded brain, that possibly her child might have strayed into Axmouth. And yet why? What cause could have drawn her from her bed and from the house at night?
She took a turn in the direction of the village; the lane she followed led from the down by a sharp descent to Bindon, an ancient and picturesque house, once a mansion of the Wyke family, now occupied as a farm.
The light was widening. She opened the gate in the wall and entered the court before the dwelling.