They had no other resource, and sat down to weary waiting, the mother weeping silently, and Roger, with sternly knit brows, deep in thought.

At last the captain returned, and the sergeant rose and said, “Here’s the mother of the girl who was taken with stolen goods on her person.  She wishes to speak with you.”

“Well, what is it?” demanded the police-captain a little harshly, turning toward Mrs. Jocelyn; but his manner softened as he looked upon the thin, delicate features which had not yet lost their old, sweet charm, and which now were eloquent with a mother’s unspeakable grief and solicitude.  “Don’t be frightened, madam,” he added, somewhat kindly, as he saw the poor woman’s ineffectual efforts to rise and speak.  “I’m human, and not more hard-hearted than my duties require.”

At last Mrs. Jocelyn burst forth:  “If you have a heart at all, sir, save mine from breaking.  My child is innocent—­it will be proved to-morrow.  A year ago we had a happy, beautiful home, and my girl a father whom all men respected.  We’ve had misfortunes, that, thank God, fall to the lot of few, but my child has kept herself spotless through them all.  I can prove this.  She is in prison to-night through no fault of hers.  Oh, sir, in the name of mother-love, can you keep me from my child?  Can I not see her even for a moment, and say to her one reassuring word?  She may go mad from fear and shame.  She may die.  Oh, sir, if you have the heart of a man, let me see her, let me speak to her.  You, or any one, may be present and see that I mean no harm.”

“There certainly has been some dreadful mistake,” Roger put in hastily, as he saw the man was irresolute, and was regarding the suppliant sympathetically.  “People who must command your respect will be glad to testify that Miss Jocelyn’s character is such as to render impossible anything dishonorable on her part.”

“Let me warn you,” said the officer keenly, “that any such negative testimony will have but little weight against the positive facts in the case.”

“Oh, let me see my child,” cried Mrs. Jocelyn, in tones of such passionate pathos that his scruples gave way, and he said to the sergeant, “Let her see the girl!  I’d be a brute to deny her, even if it is against our rules.  The doorman need not stand near enough to embarrass them.”

As Mrs. Jocelyn eagerly descended to the cells in the basement, the captain remarked to Eoger, “The girl’s friends will have to bestir themselves if they clear her.  The evidence is so strong that she’ll be committed for further trial, without doubt.”

“I think she’ll be discharged to-morrow,” replied Roger quietly.  “I thank you for your kindness to Mrs. Jocelyn.”

“Mere statements as to the girl’s previous character will not clear her,” resumed the captain emphatically.  “You are a relative, lover, or something, I suppose.  This poor woman has knocked my routine methods a little out of gear.  One rarely sees a face like hers in a station-house.  She evidently comes of no common stock, and I’d like to hear that the charge is all a mistake, as you claim; but, young man, you can’t meet criminal charges with generalities.  You’ve got to show that she didn’t steal that lace.  I wish you success, for the mother’s sake at least,” and he passed into his private room.