“It wasn’t Essy who saw you,” Mary said.

“Somebody else is lying then.  Who was it?”

“If you must know who saw you,” the Vicar said, “it was Dr. Harker.  You were seen a month ago hanging about Upthorne alone with that fellow.”

“Only once,” Ally murmured.

“You own to ‘once’?  You—­you——­” he stifled with his fury.  “Once is enough with a low blackguard like Greatorex.  And you were seen more than once.  You’ve been seen with him after dark.”  He boomed.  “There isn’t a poor drunken slut in the village who’s disgraced herself like you.”

Mary intervened.  “Sh—­sh—­Papa.  They’ll hear you in the kitchen.”

“They’ll hear her.” (Ally was moaning.) “Stop that whimpering and whining.”

“She can’t help it.”

“She can help it if she likes.  Come, Ally, we’re all here——­Poor Mary’s come up and Steven.  There are things we’ve got to know and I insist on knowing them.  You’ve brought the most awful trouble and shame on me and your sister and brother-in-law, and the least you can do is to answer truthfully.  I can’t stand any more of this distressing altercation.  I’m not going to extort any painful confession.  You’ve only got to answer a simple Yes or No.  Were you anywhere with Jim Greatorex before Dr. Harker saw you in December?  Think before you speak.  Yes or No.”

She thought.

“N-no.”

“Remember, Ally,” said Mary, “he saw you in November.”

“He didn’t.  Where?”

The Vicar answered her.  “At your sister’s wedding.”

She recovered.  “Of course he did.  Jim Greatorex wasn’t there, anyhow.”

“He was not.”

The stress had no significance for Ally.  Her brain was utterly bewildered.

“Well.  You say you were never anywhere with Greatorex before December.  You were not with him in—­when was it, Mary?”

“August,” said Mary.  “The end of August.”

Ally simply stared at him in her white bewilderment.  Dates had no meaning as yet for her cowed brain.

He helped her.

“In the Three Fields.  On a Sunday afternoon.  Did you or did you not go into the barn?”

At that she cried out with a voice of anguish.  “No—­No—­No!”

But Mary had her knife ready and she drove it home.

“Ally—­Ned Langstaff saw you.”

* * * * *

When Rowcliffe came back from Upthorne he found Alice cowering in a corner of the couch and crying out to her tormentors.

“You brutes—­you brutes—­if Gwenda was here she wouldn’t let you bully me!”

Mary turned to her husband.

“Steven—­will you speak to her?  She won’t tell us anything.  We’ve been at it more than half an hour.”

Rowcliffe stared at her and the Vicar with strong displeasure.

“I should think you had by the look of her.  Why can’t you leave the poor child alone?”