hem both
with whatever was going, poor bodies."

"What was she like?"

"A poor little wizened thing. She had beautiful golden hair, though."

"Like Miss Bartley's?"

"Something, but lighter."

"Have you ever seen her since?"

"No; and I never shall."

"Who knows?"

"Nay, sir. I asked him after her one day when he came home for good. He
never answered me, and he turned away as if I had stung him. She has
followed her mother, no doubt. And so now she is gone he's well-to-do;
and that is the way of it, sir. God sends mouths where there is no meat,
and meat where there's no mouths. But He knows best, and sees both worlds
at once. We can only see this one--that's full of trouble."

Monckton now began to yawn, for he wanted to be alone and think over the
schemes that floated before him now.

"You are sleepy, sir," said Mrs. Dawson. "I'll go and see your bed is
all right."

He thanked her and filled her glass. She tossed it off like a man this
time, and left him to doze in his chair.

Doze, indeed! Never did a man's eyes move to and fro more restlessly.
Every faculty was strung to the utmost.

At first as all the _dramatis personae_ he was in search of came out one
after another from that gossip's tongue, he was amazed and delighted to
find that instead of having to search for one of them in one part of
England, and another in another, he had got them all ready to his hand.
But soon he began to see that they were too near each other, and some of
them interwoven, and all the more dangerous to attack.

He saw one thing at a glance. That it would be quite a mistake to settle
a plan of action. That is sometimes a great advantage in dealing with the
unguarded. But it creates a stiffness. Here all must be supple and fitted
with watchful tact to the situation as it rose. Everything would have to
be shot flying.

Then as to the immediate situation, Reader, did ever you see a careful
setter run suddenly into the middle of a covey who were not on their feet
nor close together, but a little dispersed and reposing in high cover in
the middle of the day? No human face is ever so intense or human form
more rigid. He knows that one bird is three yards from his nose, another
the same distance from either ear, and, in short, that they are all about
him, and to frighten one is to frighten all.

His tail quivers, and then turns to steel, like his limbs. His eyes
glare; his tongue fears to pant; it slips out at one side of hi