r. Biggleswade had yet fifty yards to go. At the sound
he yelled louder than ever, and made a tremendous spurt. The train was
well on the move when he rushed into the station; but he dashed at a
compartment in the last carriage, wrenched the door open, scrambled on
to the footboard, and tumbled in, amidst the shouts of the indignant
porters.

Tinker drew in his head with a blank face. It had been no part of his
father's plan that Mr. Biggleswade should travel by the same train to
London, and his heart sank a little. But remembering Blazer, his
spirits rose, and he turned to the little girl with a cheerful face.
She was panting, crying, and wringing her hands in a paroxysm of
nervous excitement. He sat down beside her, thumped her on the back--a
way he had with tearful females--wiped away her tears with his
handkerchief, and poured comforting assurances of safety into her ears.

[Illustration: He poured comforting assurances of safety into her ears.]

When at last he had soothed her he began to question her, and drew from
her the story of her captivity. She had driven miles and miles with
the gentleman who had fetched her from Kensington Gardens, to a little
house in a long street. There she had found the Biggleswades. Mrs.
Biggleswade had taken away her nice clothes, and dressed her in these
common things. Then she had cut off her hair.

"I was wondering about your hair," interrupted Tinker.

For answer the little girl lifted up her black locks, hat and all;
displayed a fuzzy little fair poll underneath them, and let them drop
on it again.

"I see," said Tinker, and he went on with his questioning.

She had stayed with the Biggleswades, shut up in a room upstairs, she
did not know how many days; and then they had come down to Solesgate.
All the while Mrs. Biggleswade had been very unkind to her, and slapped
her whenever she cried for her mother.

The remembrance of her misfortunes set her crying again, and again,
with quiet patience, he consoled her. Presently she was babbling
cheerfully of her home, her mother, and her dolls, and asking many
questions. He made the replies politeness demanded, but he lent an
abstracted ear to her talk, for he was considering different plans for
escaping Mr. Biggleswade, most of them useless by reason of the
slowness of Elizabeth. He could only make up his mind that they must
dash for a cab as quickly as they could, and trust to Blazer for
protection.

It seemed to