At Bigglethorpe they found out that the station-master remembered a tall, dark gentleman getting out on the previous day, and coming back shortly afterwards with a lady. He thought it was the same, because now he remembered the gentleman had left his bag there, and had taken it, and gone off in the next up-train. On the detective's telling him to "Take care!" and mentioning that he was a policeman, which he generally found to have an awe-inspiring influence on the _gamins_ of London, the station-master said he could not tell him any more, not if he were "twenty detectives, and the Lord Mayor into the bargain, all rolled into one." He recollected a gentleman getting out there, he thought, and coming back again, and going up to London, and he believed he had a lady with him, but he would not be sure. It was "no use a pestering him with any more questions, for he had his own business to attend to about the traffic returns." He did not know who the gentleman was, nor the lady, and he "had not seen them afore or since, and didn't want to see 'em either, for that matter." There the enquiry ended, for the detective was at fault; and that is all they found out about Susan, after searching for days about the neighbourhood in every direction. Nothing could be done now but to wait and see what effect the advertisements and handbills would have in discovering her whereabouts. So Mr Trump and the detective had to go back to London as unsuccessful as when they had gone down; while Doctor Jolly and the old lady and Tom, who were all greatly grieved at the disappearance of the girl, could but wonder what had become of her. The only thing they had learnt for a certainty was that she was not in the county; and they could only hope that a good providence would watch over her, and bring her back to them safe: in the interim the police in the metropolis, with their wits sharpened by the reward offered, were doing all they could to ferret her out in London. And thus a month passed by.