“Yes,” interrupted Fortune, “and then, when you couldn’t make the thing fit, or find your clew, you dropped it.  Now let me tell you, sir, that aint our way in America.  When we get the faintest ghost of a clew we cling on to it as if it were grim death, and we don’t let it go, not for nobody.  It’s my belief that gypsies are at the bottom of the matter, and why have not you and your detectives looked in every gypsy encampment in the length and breadth of England?”

“There were some gypsies in our neighborhood, only we did not know it the first day,” continued Mr. Dolman, “and their camp was of course thoroughly examined, but no little people in the least resembling the children were found there.”

“Then of course it goes without saying,” continued Fortune, “that the gypsies passed on the little dears to other folk.  Now the question is, What sort of folk would be interested in a little pair like them?  They was both young, both lissom, both handsome, and Miss Diana was the bravest child I ever come across—­maybe they was sold to someone to train ’em to walk on the tight rope.”

Uncle William smiled indulgently.

“The detectives would certainly have found that out by this time,” he said.  “Besides, there were no traveling companies of any sort within a radius of quite fifteen miles.”

“Very well,” said Fortune; “then, perhaps, sir, you’ll allow me to manage things my own way.  I aint a detective, but I’m bent on detective work for the time being.  I’m going straight off to Madersley this morning.  I’m going to have descriptions of those children printed in very big characters, and posted all over Madersley.”

“And why specially all over Madersley?” asked Mr. Dolman.

“’Cos Madersley is, so to speak, their native town,” answered Fortune.  “Why, there aint a person in Madersley who don’t know Delaney Manor; and strangers, when they come there, drive out to see Delaney Manor as they would any other big place, and folks at this time of year travel from far to stay at Madersley, because the place is bracing and the coast good for bathing.  So you see, Mr. Dolman, there’ll be lots of people who will read my descriptions, and when they read ’em they’ll begin to talk about the children, and there’s no saying what may happen.”

“It doesn’t sound a bad idea,” said Mr. Dolman.

“Bad!” repeated Fortune.  “It’s a first-rate idea; it’s an American idea.  In America we never let the grass grow under our feet.  I’m off to Madersley this minute to see after those posters.  Why, we post up everything in America, every single thing that is lost, let alone children, and we do it in big type, as big as they make it, and we put the posters on the walls, and wherever there’s a scrap of available space.  By your leave, sir, I’m off to Madersley now.”

Fortune was as good as her word.  She not only went to Madersley and interviewed some of the best printers in the place, but she also visited the police station, and told the police to be on the lookout.