He was unsuccessful at the second stand and at every other. No driver remembered having taken up any person near the Old Bank at about eleven o’clock. He determined to see every cab-driver in Brazencrook before he gave up this first part of his theory of the robbery. The Abbey chimes were slowly hammering out the morning hymn for the second or third time that day, when the detective alighted from the last cab to prosecute his inquiries on foot, resolving to stop every fly he met in the streets. The chimes had hardly finished, when an old fellow pulled up an empty cab near the Abbey entrance, and got off his box to tie a dirty hay-bag upon his horse’s nose. Bales put his question to him--had he taken up anyone near the bank that morning? Near the bank! Yes, he had. “Who?” “A gentleman’s servant.” “Did he come out of the bank?” “He did.” “Here is half-a-crown--take me to the spot where you took him up.” “Certainly, with pleasure, sir,” said the man, and in a few minutes he pulled up within a few yards of the Old Bank. “And now drive me to the place where you put him down.” In ten minutes he pulled up again. Bales alighted. “Well, where did he go?” “He went into that house yonder--the last in the crescent.” Then Bales made the driver describe the servant carefully, and after taking a note of the number of the fly, he knocked at the door of the last house in the crescent, feeling convinced that he was on the track of the roll of notes. A maid servant came to the door. “Is James in?” asked Bales, familiarly. “We have no James here,” said the girl, smiling. “Our James is a Thomas.” “Well, is he in the house?” “No, he ain’t,” said the girl. “He was in this morning,” said Bales. “Yes, but he ain’t now; he’s gone into the country.” “When did he go? I want to see him very particularly.” “About an hour ago. His aunt’s took very bad.” “Where does she live?” “That I can’t tell you.” “When is he coming back?” “Ah, that’s what master’s just asked me; but that’s what I don’t know.” “All right,” said the detective to himself, as he left the house. “This is my man.” He made inquiries at the railway station, but nobody remembered having seen “Thomas” there. Only one train had gone out within the hour, and that to London. Bales telegraphed to Paddington, but at the same time felt pretty well satisfied that Thomas had not gone away by train. He made inquiries about other conveyances leaving Brazencrook. There was a coach to Severntown, but only on Monday and Friday, and this was Tuesday. “There’s a carrier’s cart to Avonworth,” said the ostler at the Verner Arms. “Avonworth! That is on the high road to Severntown and London?” “Yes, it be.” “When does it go?” “About four o’clock on Tuesdays, and six on Saturdays.”