"Good-by, Tom! and oh, pray, do every thing, every thing, that can
be done! I cannot tell"--

She was unable to finish, and the two men hurried away from the
sight of a sorrow as yet without remedy.

The examination of the blear-eyed and stupid old pawn-broker
resulted in very little satisfaction. He believed that it was a
woman who had sold him the bundle of child's clothing. He was not
sure if it were an old or a young woman, but rather thought it was
an old woman. It might have been a week ago that he bought them; it
might have been more, or it might have been less: he didn't set it
down, and couldn't say.

This was all; and, as nothing could be proved or even suspected of
him in connection with 'Toinette's disappearance, he was discharged
from custody, although warned to hold himself in readiness to appear
at any moment when he should be summoned.

He had not yet, however, left the room, when one of the audience, a
policeman off duty, stepped forward, and, intimating that he had
something to say, was sworn, and went on to tell how he had been
leaning against a lamp-post at the extreme of his beat, just resting
a bit, in the edge of evening before last, when he saw an old woman
that they call Mother Winch come up the street, carrying a bundle,
and leading a little girl. He knew she hadn't any child of her own;
and the child was dressed very poor; and Mother Winch called her
Judy or Biddy, or some Paddy-name or other; and maybe it was all
right, and maybe it wasn't. It could be worked up easy enough, he
supposed.