the noise with which she approached the horse and flung up her arms, was not made to frighten the animal, but simply to express execration, in her great surprise. At the same moment, even as it escaped her, she discovered her mistake, and that it was not George Heneage. "Now, madam," said Mr. Chandos, the search over, the proofs in the officers' hands, "what have you to urge why I should not give you into custody? You have been living in my mother's house under false colours; you have been rifling locks; you have taken my money; you have been writing anonymous letters, and carrying tales to Mr. Edwin Barley." "All that I have done, I was justified in doing," she answered, braving it out. "I was at work in your house, Harry Chandos, as a detective: my acts bore but one aim—the discovery of your brother, the murderer. And I have succeeded. In an hour's time from this, perhaps, the tables will be turned. As to your money, Mr. Chandos, it is wrapped in paper and directed to you. I don't steal money." "What palliation have you to offer for your conduct? what excuse against my giving you into custody?" repeated Mr. Chandos. "If you choose to do it, _do_ it," she returned. "Some one of far greater import than I will be shortly taken into custody from this house. I am of the kin of the Barleys: you and they are implacable enemies: all stratagems are fair when the discovery of criminals, hiding from the law, is in question. I have only done my duty; I would do it again. Give me into custody if you like, Mr. Chandos. The tables will soon be turned." "No, they will not be turned in the sense you would insinuate, and for that reason I can afford to be generous," answered Mr. Chandos. "Had real harm come of this matter, I would have prosecuted you to the utmost rigour of the law. But, as it is beyond your power now, or Mr. Edwin Barley's either, to do us harm, you may go from us scot-free. But I cannot allow you to remain longer at Chandos. Forgive the seeming inhospitality, if I say I would prefer that you should not wait to partake of another meal in the house. Your things shall be sent after you. Or, if you prefer to gather them together, these officers will wait while you do it, and then escort you from my house into that of Mr. Edwin Barley." "I will not be escorted abroad by police officers," she passionately answered. "You possess no choice, madam. I have, so far, given you into their charge: and they will take care to undertake it." A very short while seemed to suffice to put her things together, and Mrs. Penn came forth, attended by the two officers. In some mood of reckless defiance, or perhaps to conceal herself as much as possible from the gaze of the world, she had put on the grey cloak and drawn the hood over her head. Mr. Chandos recognised her at once, as she had looked that night. He could but be a gentleman, and had gone out to the hall in courtesy when she came down to depart. The sight of her thus startled him for a moment.