There was little hope, after a week of unavailing search, that Edith would be found. Poor Mrs. Merton had been almost distracted at her loss. The child had so wound herself about her heart that she could not have felt the blow more keenly had she been its own mother; indeed, she looked upon Edith as all her own, since she had reared her from a mere infant. All day she would go to the door, or to the lobby window, and look out upon the hills with wistful eyes; and every horseman returning without tidings of the lost child seemed to make her heart heavier.
It had come to be accepted as a fact that the child had been stolen; and Richard Merton, from the vague description given by Harold, suspected that her abductor could be no other than Jabez Gegg. Alice, the housemaid, had found Harold in the dusk of that evening fishing by the creek, and waiting for Edith and the swagman's return. The swag, being opened, was found to contain only a bundle of straw--such as sundowners use to imply that they are working men burdened with a plentiful wardrobe. The can was utterly useless, being so old that rust and time had perforated its bottom like a colander. This indicated to Merton and others that the crime had been a premeditated one.
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