"No, I musn't if it wern't painted on," bawled the man. "What d'yer come wherretin' me for about it? I don't ask my customers who comes in for a gill o' ale wheer they come from, nor wheer they're going." "Had they a young girl with them?" said the vicar, who was getting out of patience. "Not as I know on," said the man. "One had nobbut a whip." There was evidently nothing to be got out of him, so the party returned to Dumford, the policeman undertaking to communicate by telegraph with the towns through which the men would be likely to pass, as this would be the surest and quickest way. As the day wore on, the other parties returned to assemble and discuss the matter; though there was little to discuss, for Joe Banks had returned without a trace being found of his child, and the same ill fortune had attended Podmore and Richard Glaire. The latter, soon as he reached home, however, sought Mrs Glaire, who was lying down, apparently ill at ease, with Eve in attendance upon her, the young girl rising with a shiver as her cousin entered the room, and leaving without encountering his eyes. "Where is Daisy Banks, mother?" said Richard, hoarsely, as soon as they were alone. "I've kept up this foolery of searching all day, to quiet these people, and now I insist upon knowing where she is." "I should ask you that," said Mrs Glaire, angrily; "but if I did I should not learn the truth. Where have you taken her?" "Taken her?" said Richard, savagely. "Where should I take her? You know I was at home all last night." "Where you had planned to take her," said Mrs Glaire, coldly. "I planned!" cried Richard. "Why, I left her with you. Plans, indeed!" "Daisy Banks was not with me ten minutes," said Mrs Glaire, quietly. "I said plans, because--" "Because what?" cried Richard. "Do you wish me to tell you?" "Yes, if you have anything to tell." "Because you paid that chattering ass, Slee, to carry letters to and fro, between you and Daisy, after you had given me your word of honour that you would see her no more. Because you then, after gradually bringing the silly girl over to your purposes, paid or bribed, which you will, Simeon Slee, the man who has been one of the projectors of this wretched strike, to act as your pander to take this girl off to London, to await your coming. It is your doing; so now you had better seek her." "How did you know all this?" "How did I know?" said Mrs Glaire, contemptuously. "How are such things known? You leaned upon a bruised reed, and it broke and entered your hand." "Did Sim Slee tell you all this, then?" said Richard, stamping with fury. "Yes; and he would have told me long ago, had I given him what the knave wants--money." "A treacherous scoundrel!" cried Richard; "trusting him as I did." "You knew him to be a treacherous, prating scoundrel, so why did you trust him?" "Because I was a fool," roared the young man, biting his nails with rage.