road-side to see
it go in. "She was no good to anybody about her, all her lifetime," he
thought bitterly, as the last heavy fold of the velvet pall was lost to
view in the darkness of the church entrance. "But if she'd only lived a
day or two longer, she might have been of some good to me. There's more
of what I wanted to know nailed down along with her in that coffin, than
ever I'm likely to find out anywhere else. It's a long hunt of mine,
this is--a long hunt on a dull scent; and her death has made it duller."
With this farewell thought, he turned from the church.

As he pursued his way back to the railroad, he took Jane Holdsworth's
letter out of his pocket, and looked at the hair enclosed in it. It was
the fourth or fifth time he had done this during the few hours that
had passed since he had possessed himself of Mary's Bracelet. From
that period there had grown within him a vague conviction, that the
possession of Carr's hair might in some way lead to the discovery of
Carr himself. He knew perfectly well that there was not the slightest
present or practical use in examining this hair, and yet, there was
something that seemed to strengthen him afresh in his purpose, to
encourage him anew after his unexpected check at Dibbledean, merely
in the act of looking at it. "If I can't track him no other way," he
muttered, replacing the hair in his pocket, "I've got the notion into my
head, somehow, that I shall track him by this."

Mat found it no very easy business to reach Rubbleford. He had to go
back a little way on the Dibbledean line, then to diverge by a branch
line, and then to get upon another main line, and travel along it some
distance before he reached his destination. It was dark by the time
he reached Rubbleford. However, by inquiring of one or two people, he
easily found the dairy and muffin-shop when he was once in the town;
and saw, to his great delight, that it was not shut up for the night. He
looked in at the window, under a plaster cast of a cow, and observed
by the light of one tallow candle burning inside, a chubby, buxom girl
sitting at the counter, and either drawing or writing something on a
slate. Entering the shop, after a moment or two of hesitation, he asked
if he could see Mrs. Peckover.

"Mother went away, sir, three days ago, to nurse uncle Bob at Bangbury,"
answered the girl.

(Here was a second check--a second obstacle to defer the tracing of
Arthur Carr! It seemed like a fatality!)