She knocked, and the woman opened, and Regina was a little surprised to see that she was still dressed.  She was pale, and looked very anxious as she faced her mistress in the doorway.

“What is the matter?” she asked, rather nervously.

“Nothing,” Regina answered in a reassuring tone.  “I had forgotten to tell you about a little change I want in the trimming of that hat, and as I heard you moving about, I came up before going to bed.”

Settimia had taken off her shoes more than half an hour earlier in order to make no noise, and her suspicions and her fears were instantly aroused.  She drew her lids together a little and looked over Regina’s shoulder through the open door towards the dark staircase.  She was not a tall woman, and was slightly made, but she was energetic and could be quick when she chose, as Regina knew.  Regina quietly shut the door behind her and came forward into the room, carrying her candle-stick, which she set down upon the table near the lamp.

“Where is that hat?” she asked, so naturally that the woman began to think nothing was wrong after all.

Settimia turned to cross the room, in order to get the hat in question from a pasteboard bandbox that stood on the floor.  Regina followed her, and stood beside her as she bent down.

Then without the slightest warning Regina caught her arms from behind and threw her to her knees, so that she was forced to crouch down, her head almost touching the floor.  She was no more than a child in the peasant woman’s hands as soon as she was fairly caught.  But she did not scream, and she seemed to be keeping her senses about her.

“What do you want of me?” she asked, speaking with difficulty.

Policemen know that ninety-nine out of a hundred criminals ask that question when they are taken.

“I want to know several things,” Regina answered.

“Let me go, and I will tell you what I can.”

“No, you won’t,” Regina replied, looking about her for something with which to tie the woman’s hands, for she had forgotten that this might be necessary.  “I shall not let you go until I know everything.”

She felt that Settimia’s thin hands were cautiously trying the strength of her own and turning a very little in her grasp.  She threw her weight upon the woman’s shoulders to keep her down, grasped both wrists in one hand, and with the other tore off the long silk cord that tied her own dressing-gown at the waist.  It was new and strong.

“You had better not struggle,” she said, as she got the first turn round Settimia’s wrists and began to pull it tight.  “You are in my power now.  It is of no use to scream either, for nobody will hear you.”

“I know it,” the woman replied.  “What are you going to do with me?”

“I shall ask questions.  If you answer them, I shall not hurt you.  If you do not, I shall hurt you until you do, or until you die.  Now I am going to tie your wrists to your heels, so that you cannot move.  Then I will put a pillow under your head, so that you can be pretty comfortable while we talk a little.”