for life. All the ten
years I knew it, it never gave out." Old Phoebe said nothing. Why the
man should be so satisfied with this finger evidence she did not see.
But she was not going to revive his doubts. She kept moving on,
gradually to reach the road, but not to run from him. He kept near her,
but always hanging in the rear; so that she could not go quick without
seeming to do so.

If she showed willingness to talk with him, he might follow quicker, and
they would reach the road sooner. "I'm rarely puzzled, master," she
said, "to think how you should take me for another person. But I would
not be prying to know...."

"You would like to know who I mistook ye for, mayhap? Well--I'll tell
you as soon as not. I took you for my mother--just what I told you!
She's somewhere down in these parts--goes by the name of Prichard." Old
Phoebe wanted to know why she "went by" the name--was it not hers?--but
she checked a mere curiosity. "Maybe you can tell me where 'Strides
Cottage' is? That's where she got took in. So I understand."

"Oh no!--you have the name wrong, for certain. My house where I live is
called Strides Cottage. There be no Mrs. Prichard there, to my
knowledge."

"That's the name told to me, anyhow. Mrs. Prichard, of Sapps Court,
London."

"Now who ever told ye such a tale as that? I know now who ye mean,
master. But she's not at Strides Cottage. She's up at the
Towers"--rather a hushed voice here--"by the wish and permission of her
young ladyship, Lady Gwendolen, and well cared for. Ye will only be
losing your time, master, to be looking for her at Strides."

The convict looked at her fixedly. "Now which on ye is telling the
truth?--you or t'other old goody? That's the point." He spoke half to
himself, but then raised his voice, speaking direct to her. "I was there
a few hours back, nigh midday, afore I come on here. She ain't there--so
they told me."

"At the Towers--the Castle?"

"I saw no Castle. My sort ain't welcome in Castles. The party at the
house off the road--name of Keziah--she said Mrs. Prichard had been took
off to Chorlton by her cousin, Widow--Widow Thrale."

"Yes, that is my daughter. Then Keziah Solmes knew?"

"She talked like it. She said her cousin and Mrs. Prichard had gone away
better than two hours, in the carrier's cart. So it was no use me
inquiring for her at the Towers." He then produced the scrap of paper on
which he had scribbled the address. A little more talk showed Gra