"
Tinker's face brightened. "Her eyes are blue, but her hair is black,
and it's not very long."
"Hair can be dyed."
"Yes; and it doesn't match her face."
"It doesn't, doesn't it? Well, I want to know if she lisps, and if she
answers to the name of Bessie. You will find out?"
"Yes, I'll find out. But Mrs. Biggleswade never lets her speak to
anyone. I must think it out."
With that Tinker sat down; set his elbows on his knees, his chin on his
hands; and plunged into deep thought. His father sat equally
thoughtful; and their similar employment brought out extraordinarily
their strong likeness, for all that Tinker was a fair, angel child, and
his father's face as dark and proud and stern as Lucifer's.
For a long while neither said a word, nor moved. Sir Tancred was
trying to see how to work the affair on seven shillings, and debating
whether to call in the help of the police. Instinct assured him that
he had no time to lose, no time to walk to Beachley and pawn his watch,
that he must not lose sight of them, and in delicate matters he relied
chiefly on instinct. Mr. Biggleswade would not have looked so
triumphant, had not the 4000 pound reward satisfied him; it seemed
likely that he would leave for town that very day.
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