I had gone to bed and fallen asleep when my guardian knocked at thedoor of my room and begged me to get up directly. On my hurryingto speak to him and learn what had happened, he told me, after aword or two of preparation, that there had been a discovery at SirLeicester Dedlock's. That my mother had fled, that a person wasnow at our door who was empowered to convey to her the fullestassurances of affectionate protection and forgiveness if he couldpossibly find her, and that I was sought for to accompany him inthe hope that my entreaties might prevail upon her if his failed.

　　Something to this general purpose I made out, but I was thrown intosuch a tumult of alarm, and hurry and distress, that in spite ofevery effort I could make to subdue my agitation, I did not seem,to myself, fully to recover my right mind until hours had passed.

　　But I dressed and wrapped up expeditiously without waking Charleyor any one and went down to Mr. Bucket, who was the personentrusted with the secret. In taking me to him my guardian told methis, and also explained how it was that he had come to think ofme. Mr. Bucket, in a low voice, by the light of my guardian'scandle, read to me in the hall a letter that my mother had leftupon her table; and I suppose within ten minutes of my having beenaroused I was sitting beside him, rolling swiftly through thestreets.

　　His manner was very keen, and yet considerate when he explained tome that a great deal might depend on my being able to answer,without confusion, a few questions that he wished to ask me. Thesewere, chiefly, whether I had had much communication with my mother(to whom he only referred as Lady Dedlock), when and where I hadspoken with her last, and how she had become possessed of myhandkerchief. When I had satisfied him on these points, he askedme particularly to consider--taking time to think--whether withinmy knowledge there was any one, no matter where, in whom she mightbe at all likely to confide under circumstances of the lastnecessity. I could think of no one but my guardian. But by and byI mentioned Mr. Boythorn. He came into my mind as connected withhis old chivalrous manner of mentioning my mother's name and withwhat my guardian had informed me of his engagement to her sisterand his unconscious connexion with her unhappy story.

　　My companion had stopped the driver while we held thisconversation, that we might the better hear each other. He nowtold him to go on again and said to me, after considering withinhimself for a few moments, that he had made up his mind how toproceed. He was quite willing to tell me what his plan was, but Idid not feel clear enough to understand it.

　　We had not driven very far from our lodgings when we stopped in aby-street at a public-looking place lighted up with gas. Mr.

　　Bucket took me in and sat me in an armchair by a bright fire. Itwas now past one, as I saw by the clock against the wall. Twopolice officers, looking in their perfectly neat uniform not at alllike people who were up all night, were quietly writing at a desk;and the place seemed very quiet altogether, except for some beatingand calling out at distant doors underground, to which nobody paidany attention.

　　A third man in uniform, whom Mr. Bucket called and to whom hewhispered his instructions, went out; and then the two othersadvised together while one wrote from Mr. Bucket's subdueddictation. It was a description of my mother that they were busywith, for Mr. Bucket brought it to me when it was done and read itin a whisper. It was very accurate indeed.

　　The second officer, who had attended to it closely, then copied itout and called in another man in uniform (there were several in anouter room), who took it up and went away with it. All this wasdone with the greatest dispatch and without the waste of a moment;yet nobody was at all hurried. As soon as the paper was sent outupon its travels, the two officers resumed their former quiet workof writing with neatness and care. Mr. Bucket thoughtfully cameand warmed the soles of his boots, first one and then the other, atthe fire.

　　"Are you well wrapped up, Miss Summerson?" he asked me as his eyesmet mine. "It's a desperate sharp night for a young lady to be outin."I told him I cared for no weather and was warmly clothed.

　　"It may be a long job," he observed; "but so that it ends well,never mind, miss.""I pray to heaven it may end well!" said I.

　　He nodded comfortingly. "You see, whatever you do, don't you goand fret yourself. You keep yourself cool and equal for anythingthat may happen, and it'll be the better for you, the better forme, the better for Lady Dedlock, and the better for Sir LeicesterDedlock, Baronet."He was really very kind and gentle, and as he stood before the firewarming his boots and rubbing his face with his forefinger, I felta confidence in his sagacity which reassured me. It was not yet aquarter to two when I heard horses' feet and wheels outside. "Now,Miss Summerson," said he, "we are off, if you please!"He gave me his arm, and the two officers courteously bowed me out,and we found at the door a phaeton or barouche with a postilion andpost horses. Mr. Bucket handed me in and took his own seat on thebox. The man in uniform whom he had sent to fetch this equipagethen handed him up a dark lantern at his request, and when he hadgiven a few directions to the driver, we rattled away.

　　I was far from sure that I was not in a dream. We rattled withgreat rapidity through such a labyrinth of streets that I soon lostall idea where we were, except that we had crossed and re-crossedthe river, and still seemed to be traversing a low-lying,waterside, dense neighbourhood of narrow thoroughfares chequered bydocks and basins, high piles of warehouses, swing-bridges, andmasts of ships. At length we stopped at the corner of a littleslimy turning, which the wind from the river, rushing up it, didnot purify; and I saw my companion, by the light of his lantern, inconference with several men who looked like a mixture of police andsailors. Against the mouldering wall by which they stood, therewas a bill, on which I could discern the words, "Found Drowned";and this and an inscription about drags possessed me with the awfulsuspicion shadowed forth in our visit to that place.

　　I had no need to remind myself that I was not there by theindulgence of any feeling of mine to increase the difficulties ofthe search, or to lessen its hopes, or enhance its delays. Iremained quiet, but what I suffered in that dreadful spot I nevercan forget. And still it was like the horror of a dream. A manyet dark and muddy, in long swollen sodden boots and a hat likethem, was called out of a boat and whispered with Mr. Bucket, whowent away with him down some slippery steps--as if to look atsomething secret that he had to show. They came back, wiping theirhands upon their coats, after turning over something wet; but thankGod it was not what I feared!

　　After some further conference, Mr. Bucket (whom everybody seemed toknow and defer to) went in with the others at a door and left me inthe carriage, while the driver walked up and down by his horses towarm himself. The tide was coming in, as I judged from the soundit made, and I could hear it break at the end of the alley with alittle rush towards me. It never did so--and I thought it did so,hundreds of times, in what can have been at the most a quarter ofan hour, and probably was less--but the thought shuddered throughme that it would cast my mother at the horses' feet.

　　Mr. Bucket came out again, exhorting the others to be vigilant,darkened his lantern, and once more took his seat. "Don't you bealarmed, Miss Summerson, on account of our coming down here," hesaid, turning to me. "I only want to have everything in train andto know that it is in train by looking after it myself. Get on, mylad!"We appeared to retrace the way we had come. Not that I had takennote of any particular objects in my perturbed state of mind, butjudging from the general character of the streets. We called atanother office or station for a minute and crossed the river again.

　　During the whole of this time, and during the whole search, mycompanion, wrapped up on the box, never relaxed in his vigilance asingle moment; but when we crossed the bridge he seemed, ifpossible, to be more on the alert than before. He stood up to lookover the parapet, he alighted and went back after a shadowy femalefigure that flitted past us, and he gazed into the profound blackpit of water with a face that made my heart die within me. Theriver had a fearful look, so overcast and secret, creeping away sofast between the low flat lines of shore--so heavy with indistinctand awful shapes, both of substance and shadow; so death-like andmysterious. I have seen it many times since then, by sunlight andby moonlight, but never free from the impressions of that journey.

　　In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, thecutting wind is eddying round the homeless woman whom we pass, themonotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me--a face rising out ofthe dreaded water.

　　Clattering and clattering through the empty streets, we came atlength from the pavement on to dark smooth roads and began to leavethe houses behind us. After a while I recognized the familiar wayto Saint Albans. At Barnet fresh horses were ready for us, and wechanged and went on. It was very cold indeed, and the open countrywas white with snow, though none was falling then.

　　"An old acquaintance of yours, this road, Miss Summerson," said Mr.

　　Bucket cheerfully.

　　"Yes," I returned. "Have you gathered any intelligence?""None that can be quite depended on as yet," he answered, "but it'searly times as yet."He had gone into every late or early public-house where there was alight (they were not a few at that time, the road being then muchfrequented by drovers) and had got down to talk to the turnpike-keepers. I had heard him ordering drink, and chinking money, andmaking himself agreeable and merry everywhere; but whenever he tookhis seat upon the box again, his face resumed its watchful steadylook, and he always said to the driver in the same business tone,"Get on, my lad!"With all these stoppages, it was between five and six o'clock andwe were yet a few miles short of Saint Albans when he came out ofone of these houses and handed me in a cup of tea.

　　"Drink it, Miss Summerson, it'll do you good. You're beginning toget more yourself now, ain't you?"I thanked him and said I hoped so.

　　"You was what you may call stunned at first," he returned; "andLord, no wonder! Don't speak loud, my dear. It's all right.

　　She's on ahead."I don't know what joyful exclamation I made or was going to make,but he put up his finger and I stopped myself.

　　"Passed through here on foot this evening about eight or nine. Iheard of her first at the archway toll, over at Highgate, butcouldn't make quite sure. Traced her all along, on and off.

　　Picked her up at one place, and dropped her at another; but she'sbefore us now, safe. Take hold of this cup and saucer, ostler.

　　Now, if you wasn't brought up to the butter trade, look out and seeif you can catch half a crown in your t'other hand. One, two,three, and there you are! Now, my lad, try a gallop!"We were soon in Saint Albans and alighted a little before day, whenI was just beginning to arrange and comprehend the occurrences ofthe night and really to believe that they were not a dream.

　　Leaving the carriage at the posting-house and ordering fresh horsesto be ready, my companion gave me his arm, and we went towardshome.

　　"As this is your regular abode, Miss Summerson, you see," heobserved, "I should like to know whether you've been asked for byany stranger answering the description, or whether Mr. Jarndycehas. I don't much expect it, but it might be."As we ascended the hill, he looked about him with a sharp eye--theday was now breaking--and reminded me that I had come down it onenight, as I had reason for remembering, with my little servant andpoor Jo, whom he called Toughey.

　　I wondered how he knew that.

　　"When you passed a man upon the road, just yonder, you know," saidMr. Bucket.

　　Yes, I remembered that too, very well.

　　"That was me," said Mr. Bucket.

　　Seeing my surprise, he went on, "I drove down in a gig thatafternoon to look after that boy. You might have heard my wheelswhen you came out to look after him yourself, for I was aware ofyou and your little maid going up when I was walking the horsedown. Making an inquiry or two about him in the town, I soon heardwhat company he was in and was coming among the brick-fields tolook for him when I observed you bringing him home here.""Had he committed any crime?" I asked.

　　"None was charged against him," said Mr. Bucket, coolly lifting offhis hat, "but I suppose he wasn't over-particular. No. What Iwanted him for was in connexion with keeping this very matter ofLady Dedlock quiet. He had been making his tongue more free thanwelcome as to a small accidental service he had been paid for bythe deceased Mr. Tulkinghorn; and it wouldn't do, at any sort ofprice, to have him playing those games. So having warned him outof London, I made an afternoon of it to warn him to keep out of itnow he WAS away, and go farther from it, and maintain a brightlook-out that I didn't catch him coming back again.""Poor creature!" said I.

　　"Poor enough," assented Mr. Bucket, "and trouble enough, and wellenough away from London, or anywhere else. I was regularly turnedon my back when I found him taken up by your establishment, I doassure you.

　　I asked him why. "Why, my dear?" said Mr. Bucket. "Naturallythere was no end to his tongue then. He might as well have beenborn with a yard and a half of it, and a remnant over."Although I remember this conversation now, my head was in confusionat the time, and my power of attention hardly did more than enableme to understand that he entered into these particulars to divertme. With the same kind intention, manifestly, he often spoke to meof indifferent things, while his face was busy with the one objectthat we had in view. He still pursued this subject as we turned inat the garden-gate.

　　"Ah!" said Mr. Bucket. "Here we are, and a nice retired place itis. Puts a man in mind of the country house in the Woodpecker-tapping, that was known by the smoke which so gracefully curled.

　　They're early with the kitchen fire, and that denotes goodservants. But what you've always got to be careful of withservants is who comes to see 'em; you never know what they're up toif you don't know that. And another thing, my dear. Whenever youfind a young man behind the kitchen-door, you give that young manin charge on suspicion of being secreted in a dwelling-house withan unlawful purpose."We were now in front of the house; he looked attentively andclosely at the gravel for footprints before he raised his eyes tothe windows.

　　"Do you generally put that elderly young gentleman in the same roomwhen he's on a visit here, Miss Summerson?" he inquired, glancingat Mr. Skimpole's usual chamber.

　　"You know Mr. Skimpole!" said I.

　　"What do you call him again?" returned Mr. Bucket, bending down hisear. "Skimpole, is it? I've often wondered what his name mightbe. Skimpole. Not John, I should say, nor yet Jacob?""Harold," I told him.

　　"Harold. Yes. He's a queer bird is Harold," said Mr. Bucket,eyeing me with great expression.

　　"He is a singular character," said I.

　　"No idea of money," observed Mr. Bucket. "He takes it, though!"I involuntarily returned for answer that I perceived Mr. Bucketknew him.

　　"Why, now I'll tell you, Miss Summerson," he replied. "Your mindwill be all the better for not running on one point toocontinually, and I'll tell you for a change. It was him as pointedout to me where Toughey was. I made up my mind that night to cometo the door and ask for Toughey, if that was all; but willing totry a move or so first, if any such was on the board, I justpitched up a morsel of gravel at that window where I saw a shadow.

　　As soon as Harold opens it and I have had a look at him, thinks I,you're the man for me. So I smoothed him down a bit about notwanting to disturb the family after they was gone to bed and aboutits being a thing to be regretted that charitable young ladiesshould harbour vagrants; and then, when I pretty well understoodhis ways, I said I should consider a fypunnote well bestowed if Icould relieve the premises of Toughey without causing any noise ortrouble. Then says he, lifting up his eyebrows in the gayest way,'It's no use menfioning a fypunnote to me, my friend, because I'm amere child in such matters and have no idea of money.' Of course Iunderstood what his taking it so easy meant; and being now quitesure he was the man for me, I wrapped the note round a little stoneand threw it up to him. Well! He laughs and beams, and looks asinnocent as you like, and says, 'But I don't know the value ofthese things. What am I to DO with this?' 'Spend it, sir,' saysI. 'But I shall be taken in,' he says, 'they won't give me theright change, I shall lose it, it's no use to me.' Lord, you neversaw such a face as he carried it with! Of course he told me whereto find Toughey, and I found him."I regarded this as very treacherous on the part of Mr. Skimpoletowards my guardian and as passing the usual bounds of his childishinnocence.

　　"Bounds, my dear?" returned Mr. Bucket. "Bounds? Now, MissSummerson, I'll give you a piece of advice that your husband willfind useful when you are happily married and have got a familyabout you. Whenever a person says to you that they are as innocentas can be in all concerning money, look well after your own money,for they are dead certain to collar it if they can. Whenever aperson proclaims to you 'In worldly matters I'm a child,' youconsider that that person is only a-crying off from being heldaccountable and that you have got that person's number, and it'sNumber One. Now, I am not a poetical man myself, except in a vocalway when it goes round a company, but I'm a practical one, andthat's my experience. So's this rule. Fast and loose in onething, fast and loose in everything. I never knew it fail. Nomore will you. Nor no one. With which caution to the unwary, mydear, I take the liberty of pulling this here bell, and so go backto our business."I believe it had not been for a moment out of his mind, any morethan it had been out of my mind, or out of his face. The wholehousehold were amazed to see me, without any notice, at that timein the morning, and so accompanied; and their surprise was notdiminished by my inquiries. No one, however, had been there. Itcould not be doubted that this was the truth.

　　"Then, Miss Summerson," said my companion, "we can't be too soon atthe cottage where those brickmakers are to be found. Mostinquiries there I leave to you, if you'll be so good as to make'em. The naturalest way is the best way, and the naturalest way isyour own way."We set off again immediately. On arriving at the cottage, we foundit shut up and apparently deserted, but one of the neighbours whoknew me and who came out when I was trying to make some one hearinformed me that the two women and their husbands now livedtogether in another house, made of loose rough bricks, which stoodon the margin of the piece of ground where the kilns were and wherethe long rows of bricks were drying. We lost no time in repairingto this place, which was within a few hundred ............