oked keenly at him.

"My name is Thurnall. I was a medical man once in Whitbury, where your
husband was born."

"You?" said she again, in a softened tone, "I knows that name well
enough."

"You do? What was your name, then?" said Tom, who recognised the woman's
Berkshire accent beneath its coat of cockneyism.

"Never you mind: I'm no credit to it, so I'll let it be. But come in,
for the old county's sake. Can't offer you a chair, he's pawned 'em all.
Pleasant old place it was down there, when I was a young girl; they say
it's grow'd a grand place now, wi' a railroad. I think many times I'd
like to go down and die there." She spoke in a rough, sullen, careless
tone, as if life-weary.

"My good woman," said Major Campbell, a little impatiently, "can you
find your husband for us?"

"Why then?" asked she sharply, her suspicion seeming to return.

"If he will answer a few questions, I will give him five shillings. If
he can find out for me what I want, I will give him five pounds."

"Shouldn't I do as well? If you gi' it he, it's little out of it I shall
see, but he coming home tipsy when it's spent. Ah, dear! it was a sad
day for me when I first fell in with they play-goers!"

"Why should she not do it as well?" said Thurnall. "Mrs. Barker, do you
know anything of a person named Briggs--John Briggs, the apothecary's
son, at Whitbury?"

She laughed a harsh bitter laugh.

"Know he? yes, and too much reason. That was where it all begun, along
of that play-going of he's and my master's."

"Have you seen him lately?" asked Campbell, eagerly.

"I seen 'un? I'd hit this water over the fellow, and all his play-acting
merryandrews, if ever he sot a foot here!"

"But have you heard of him?"

"Ees--" said she carelessly; "he's round here now, I heard my master
say, about the 'Delphy, with my master: a drinking, I suppose. No good,
I'll warrant."

"My good woman," said Campbell, panting for breath, "bring me face to
face with that man, and I'll put a five-pound note in your hand there
and then."

"Five pounds is a sight to me: but it's a sight more than the sight of
he's worth," said she suspiciously again.

"That's the gentleman's concern," said Tom. "The money's yours. I
suppose you know the worth of it by now?"

"Ees, none better. But I don't want he to get hold of it; he's made away
with enough already;" and she began to think.

"Curiously impassive people, we Wessex worthies, when we are a little
ground