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crossed the moonlighted window with a loose black mantle on； I
noticed a deep fringe to it。 However； it has nothing to do with the
present subject； excepting that Miss Summerson looked so like it
at the moment； that it came into my head。”
I cannot separate and define the feelings that arose in me after
this： it is enough that the vague duty and obligation I had felt upon
me from the first of following the investigation； was； without my
distinctly daring to ask myself any question； increased； and that I
was indignantly sure of there being no possibility of a reason for
my being afraid。
We three went out of the prison； and walked up and down at
some short distance from the gate； which was in a retired place。
We had not waited long； when Mr and Mrs Bagnet came out too；
and quickly joined us。
There was a tear in each of Mrs Bagnet’s eyes； and her face was
flushed and hurried。 “I didn’t let George see what I thought about
it； you know； miss；” was her first remark when she came up； “but
he’s in a bad way； poor old fellow！”
“Not with care and prudence； and good help；” said my
Guardian。
“A gentleman like you ought to know best； sir；” returned Mrs
Bagnet； hurriedly drying her eyes on the hem of her grey cloak；
“but I am uneasy for him。 He has been so careless； and said so
much that he never meant。 The gentlemen of the juries might not
understand him as Lignum and me do。 And then such a number of
circumstances have happened bad for him； and such a number of
people will be brought forward to speak against him； and Bucket
is so deep。”
“With a second…hand wiolinceller。 And said he played the fife。
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When a boy。” Mr Bagnet added； with great solemnity。
“Now； I tell you； miss；” said Mrs Bagnet； “and when I say miss；
I mean all！ Just come into the corner of the wall； and I’ll tell you！”
Mrs Bagnet hurried us into a more secluded place； and was at
first too breathless to proceed； occasioning Mr Bagnet to say； “Old
girl！ Tell ’em！”
“Why then； miss；” the old girl proceeded； untying the strings of
her bonnet for more air； “you could as soon move Dover Castle as
move George on this point； unless you had got a new power to
move him with。 And I have got it！”
“You are a jewel of a woman；” said my Guardian。 “Go on！”
“Now； I tell you miss；” she proceeded； clapping her hands in
her hurry and agitation a dozen times in every sentence； “that
what he says concerning no relations is all bosh。 They don’t know
of him； but he does know of them。 He has said more to me at odd
times than to anybody else； and it warn’t for nothing that he once
spoke to my Woolwich about whitening and wrinkling mothers’
heads。 For fifty pounds he had seen his mother that day。 She’s
alive； and must be brought here straight！”
Instantly Mrs Bagnet put some pins into her mouth； and began
pinning up her skirts all round； a little higher than the level of her
grey cloak； which she accomplished with surprising dispatch and
dexterity。
“Lignum；” said Mrs Bagnet； “you take care of the children； old
man； and give me the umbrella！ I’m away to Lincolnshire； to bring
that old lady here。”
“But； bless the woman！” cried my Guardian； with his hand in
his pocket； “how is she going？ What money has she got？”
Mrs Bagnet made another application to her skirts； and
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brought forth a leathern purse in which she hastily counted over a
few shillings； and which she then shut up with perfect satisfaction。
“Never you mind for me； miss； I’m a soldier’s wife； and
accustomed to travelling in my own way。 Lignum； old boy；”
kissing him； “one for yourself； three for the children。 Now； I’m
away into Lincolnshire after George’s mother！”
And she actually set off while we three stood looking at one
another lost in amazement。 She actually trudged away in her grey
cloak at a sturdy pace； and turned the corner； and was gone。
“Mr Bagnet；” said my Guardian。 “Do you mean to let her go in
that way？”
“Can’t help it；” he returned。 “Made her way home once。 From
another quarter of the world。 With the same grey cloak。 And same
umbrella。 Whatever the old girl says； do。 Do it！ Whenever the old
girl says； I’ll do it。 She does it。”
“Then she is as honest and genuine as she looks；” rejoined my
Guardian； “and it is impossible to say more for her。”
“She’s Colour…Serjeant of the Nonpareil Battalion；” said Mr
Bagnet； looking at us over his shoulder； as he went his way also。
“And there’s not such another。 But I never own to it before her。
Discipline must be maintained。”
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Chapter 53
The Track
r Bucket and his fat forefinger are much in consultation
together under existing circumstances。 When Mr
M
Bucket has a matter of this pressing interest under his
consideration； the fat forefinger seems to rise to the dignity of a
familiar demon。 He puts it to his ears； and it whispers information；
he puts it to his lips； and it enjoins him to secrecy； he rubs it over
his nose； and it sharpens his scent； he shakes it before a guilty
man； and it charms him to his destruction。 The Augurs of the
Detective Temple invariably； predict； that when Mr Bucket and
that finger are much in conference； a terrible avenger will be
heard of before long。
Otherwise mildly studious in his observation of human nature；
on the whole a benignant philosopher not disposed to be severe
upon the follies of mankind； Mr Bucket pervades a vast number of
houses； and strolls about an infinity of streets； to outward
appearance rather languishing for want of an object。 He is in the
friendliest condition towards his species； and will drink with most
of them。 He is free with his money； affable in his manners；
innocent in his conversation—but； through the placid stream of
his life； there glides an undercurrent of forefinger。
Time and place cannot bind Mr Bucket。 Like man in the
abstract； he is here today and gone tomorrow—but； very unlike
man indeed； he is here again the next day。 This evening he will be
casually looking into the iron extinguishers at the door of Sir
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Leicester Dedlock’s house in town； and tomorrow morning he will
be walking on the leads at Chesney Wold； where erst the old man
walked whose ghost is propitiated with a hundred guineas。
Drawers； desks； pockets； all things belonging to him； Mr Bucket
examines。 A few hours afterwards； he and the Roman will be alone
together； comparing forefingers。
It is likely that these occupations are irreconcileable with home
enjoyment； but it is certain that Mr Bucket at present does not go
home。 Though in general he highly appreciates the society of Mrs
Bucket—a lady of a natural detective genius； which if it had been
improved by professional exercise might have done great things；
but which has paused at the level of a clever amateur—he holds
himself aloof from that dear solace。 Mrs Bucket is dependent on
their lodger （fortunately an amiable lady in whom she takes an
interest） for companionship and conversation。
A great crowd assembles in Lincoln’s Inn Fields on the day of
the funeral。 Sir Leicester Dedlock attends the ceremony in person；
strictly speaking； there are only three other human followers； that
is to say； Lord Doodle； William Buffy； and the debilitated cousin
（thrown in as a make…weight）； but the amount of inconsolable
carriages is immense。 The Peerage contributes more four…wheeled
affliction than has ever been seen in that neighbourhood。 Such is
the assemblage of armorial bearings on coach panels； that the
Heralds’ College might be supposed to have lost its father and
mother at a blow。 The Duke of Foodle sends a splendid pile of dust
and ashes； with silver wheel…boxes； patent axles； all the last
improvements； and three bereaved worms； six feet high； holding
on behind； in a bunch of woe。 All the state coac
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