Chafing at all this rigmarole, which was sending another good hour to waste, I poured out my tale in a very few words, and had the satisfaction of seeing at last an expression of amazement gathering and deepening on the large fat countenance of Sergeant Biggs. “Why this beats everything as was ever done in Sunbury, since Squire Coldpepper’s daughter ran away! And in the same family, too, as you might say! How long ago was that? Why, let me see.” He was going to refer to some books, and took off his horn spectacles first to consider where they were. “Come along, Biggs. No time for that,” cried my uncle impatiently; “we want you to come and examine the place at once. It was useless for us to go up, till daylight. There are footsteps for you to examine, and the doors.” “Now this here will be all over London, afore the clock strikes twelve to-day. Ah, you may stare, gentlemen; and we don’t tell how we do it. But such is our organization, and things are brought to such perfection now—” “Come along, Biggs. Why, it’s pouring with rain! I knew the white frosts were sure to bring it. But I did not expect it till the afternoon. And it sounds like hail—shocking thing for all my blossom.” “I’ll be with you, Mr. Orchardson, in about ten minutes. But I must put my toggery to rights first, you see. Sergeant Biggs does not think much of himself; but Sunbury does, and it would stare to see him go on duty without any waistcoat or stock, or even a pair of braces on. By-the-bye, gents, have you been to Tompkins’ house?” This was about the first sensible thing he had said; and I answered that we had not been there yet; but would go there at once, as it was not far out of our course, and we would rejoin him at the cottage. I had thought more than once in the long hours of that night of going to see the girl Polly, but was loth to knock up a hard-working household for nothing, and felt sure that Polly could throw no light upon the matter: as she always left our cottage about five in the afternoon. And so it proved when we saw her now. For she could only stare, and exclaim, “Oh Lor’!” having most of her wits, which were not very active, absorbed in hard work, and the necessity of living. And the more I examined her, the more nervous she became, fancying that she was undergoing trial, and perhaps likely to be hanged for the loss of her young mistress. “I never see nawbody take her away: nor nawbody come anigh the house, all the time as I were in it. Mother knows I didn’t.” This she said over and over again. “Nobody says that you did, Polly,” I answered as gently as possible; “but did you see anything to make you think, that your mistress meant to go away, when you were gone?” “I don’now what she was athinking of. She never told me nort about it. No, I never see nawbody take her away. It isn’t fair, nor true, to say so.”