‘Norah!  Who was that man that came to my house last night?’

‘Man, sir!’ As if infinitely surprised; but it was only to gain time.

’Yes; the man that Mary let in; that she went upstairs to the nursery to tell you about; that you came down to speak to; the same chap, I make no doubt, that you took into the nursery to have your talk out with; the one Ailsie saw, and afterwards dreamed about; thinking, poor wench! she saw him say his prayers, when nothing, I’ll be bound, was further from his thoughts; the one that took Mrs Chadwick’s brooch, value ten pounds.  Now, Norah!  Don’t go off.  I’m as sure as my name’s Thomas Openshaw that you knew nothing of this robbery.  But I do think you’ve been imposed on, and that’s the truth.  Some good-for-nothing chap has been making up to you, and you’ve been just like all other women, and have turned a soft place in your heart to him; and he came last night a-lovyering, and you had him up in the nursery, and he made use of his opportunities, and made off with a few things on his way down!  Come, now, Norah; it’s no blame to you, only you must not be such a fool again!  Tell us,’ he continued, ’what name he gave you, Norah.  I’ll be bound, it was not the right one; but it will be a clue for the police.’

Norah drew herself up.  ’You may ask that question, and taunt me with my being single, and with my credulity, as you will, Master Openshaw.  You’ll get no answer from me.  As for the brooch, and the story of theft and burglary; if any friend ever came to see me (which I defy you to prove, and deny), he’d be just as much above doing such a thing as you yourself, Mr Openshaw—­and more so, too; for I’m not at all sure as everything you have is rightly come by, or would be yours long, if every man had his own.’  She meant, of course, his wife; but he understood her to refer to his property in goods and chattels.

‘Now, my good woman,’ said he, ’I’ll just tell you truly, I never trusted you out and out; but my wife liked you, and I thought you had many a good point about you.  If you once begin to sauce me, I’ll have the police to you, and get out the truth in a court of justice, if you’ll not tell it me quietly and civilly here.  Now, the best thing you can do is quietly to tell me who the fellow is.  Look here! a man comes to my house; asks for you; you take him upstairs; a valuable brooch is missing next day; we know that you, and Mary, and cook, are honest; but you refuse to tell us who the man is.  Indeed, you’ve told me one lie already about him, saying no one was here last night.  Now, I just put it to you, what do you think a policeman would say to this, or a magistrate?  A magistrate would soon make you tell the truth, my good woman.’

‘There’s never the creature born that should get it out of me,’ said Norah.  ‘Not unless I choose to tell.’

‘I’ve a great mind to see,’ said Mr Openshaw, growing angry at the defiance.  Then, checking himself, he thought before he spoke again: