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 up-stairs, 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 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: 

“Norah, for your missus’s sake I don’t want to go to extremities.  Be a sensible woman, if you can.  It’s no great disgrace, after all, to have been taken in.  I ask you once more—­as a friend—­who was this man whom you let into my house last night?”

No answer.  He repeated the question in an impatient tone.  Still no answer.  Norah’s lips were set in determination not to speak.

“Then there is but one thing to be done.  I shall send for a policeman.”