a room, and quietly locked the door on the outside. Norah was utterly
worn out, and fell asleep--a shivering, starting, uneasy slumber,
which lasted for hours.

The detective, meanwhile, had come up with her some time before she
entered the hotel, into which he followed her. Asking the landlady to
detain her for an hour or so, without giving any reason beyond showing
his authority (which made the landlady applaud herself a good deal for
having locked her in), he went back to the police-station to report
his proceedings. He could have taken her directly; but his object was,
if possible, to trace out the man who was supposed to have committed
the robbery. Then he heard of the discovery of the brooch; and
consequently did not care to return.

Norah slept till even the summer evening began to close in, Then
started up. Someone was at the door. It would be Mr Frank; and she
dizzily pushed back her ruffled grey hair which had fallen over her
eyes, and stood looking to see him. Instead, there came in Mr Openshaw
and a policeman.

'This is Norah Kennedy,' said Mr Openshaw.

'Oh, sir,' said Norah, 'I did not touch the brooch; indeed I did not.
Oh, sir, I cannot live to be thought so badly of'; and very sick
and faint, she suddenly sank down on the ground. To her surprise, Mr
Openshaw raised her up very tenderly. Even the policeman helped to lay
her on the sofa; and, at Mr Openshaw's desire, he went for some wine
and sandwiches; for the poor gaunt woman lay there almost as if dead
with weariness and exhaustion.