e there's nothing amiss?"

They looked round the room. "Surely," said Stubberd to one of the men,
"I saw you by now in Corn Street--Mr. Grower spoke to 'ee?"

The man, who was Charl, shook his head absently. "I've been here this
last hour, hain't I, Nance?" he said to the woman who meditatively
sipped her ale near him.

"Faith, that you have. I came in for my quiet suppertime half-pint, and
you were here then, as well as all the rest."

The other constable was facing the clock-case, where he saw reflected in
the glass a quick motion by the landlady. Turning sharply, he caught her
closing the oven-door.

"Something curious about that oven, ma'am!" he observed advancing,
opening it, and drawing out a tambourine.

"Ah," she said apologetically, "that's what we keep here to use when
there's a little quiet dancing. You see damp weather spoils it, so I put
it there to keep it dry."

The constable nodded knowingly, but what he knew was nothing. Nohow
could anything be elicited from this mute and inoffensive assembly. In
a few minutes the investigators went out, and joining those of their
auxiliaries who had been left at the door they pursued their way
elsewhither.

40.

Long before this time Henchard, weary of his ruminations on the bridge,
had repaired towards the town. When he stood at the bottom of the street
a procession burst upon his view, in the act of turning out of an alley
just above him. The lanterns, horns, and multitude startled him; he saw
the mounted images, and knew what it all meant.

They crossed the way, entered another street, and disappeared. He turned
back a few steps and was lost in grave reflection, finally wending his
way homeward by the obscure river-side path. Unable to rest there he
went to his step-daughter's lodging, and was told that Elizabeth-Jane
had gone to Mr. Farfrae's. Like one acting in obedience to a charm, and
with a nameless apprehension, he followed in the same direction in the
hope of meeting her, the roysterers having vanished. Disappointed in
this he gave the gentlest of pulls to the door-bell, and then learnt
particulars of what had occurred, together with the doctor's imperative
orders that Farfrae should be brought home, and how they had set out to
meet him on the Budmouth Road.

"But he has gone to Mellstock and Weatherbury!" exclaimed Henchard, now
unspeakably grieved. "Not Budmouth way at all."

But, alas! for Henchard; he had lost his good name. They wo