"I have not taken one half-penny," answered Justine, sulkily. "She gave me the money; she dare not say different. Speak, Miss, you know you gave it to me." But Annabel had recovered something of her old audacity. She felt she was safe, and she was not disposed to mercy. She only smiled scornfully, and re-arranged the satin cushions under her head more comfortably. "Quick! How much money have you taken?" Justine refused to answer; and Piers said, "I give you two minutes. Then I shall send for a constable." "And Miss Vyner's wedding will be put off." "For your crime? Oh, no! Miss Vyner's wedding is far beyond your interference. She will have nothing to do with this affair. _I_ shall prosecute you. You have my ring. Will you give it to me, or to a constable?" "I did not take the ring." "It is in your possession. I will send now for an officer." He rose to touch the bell-rope, keeping his eyes on the woman all the time; and she darted forward and arrested his hand. "I will do what you wish," she said. "How much money have you taken from Miss Vyner?" "Eight hundred and ninety pounds." "Where is it?" "In my room." "Go and get it--stay, I will go with you." In a few minutes Justine returned with her ill-gotten treasure; and then she condescended to explain, and entreat,-- "Oh, my lord," she said, "don't be hard on me. I wanted the money for my poor old mother who is in Marylebone Workhouse. I did, indeed I did! It was to make her old age comfortable. She is sick and very poor, and I wanted it for her." "We shall see about that. If your story is true, you shall give the money to your poor old sick mother. If it is not true, you shall give my ring and the money to a constable, and sleep in prison this very night." With impetuous passion he ordered a carriage, and Justine was driven to the Marylebone Workhouse. By the time they reached that institution, she was thoroughly humbled and afraid; her fear being confirmed by the subservience of the Master to the rank and commands of Lord Exham. For a moment she had an idea of denying her own statement; but the futility of the lie was too evident to be doubted; and, very reluctantly, she admitted her mother's name to be Margaret Oddy. In a few minutes--during which Lord Exham ordered Justine to count out the money in her bag to the Master--Margaret appeared. She was not an old woman in years, being but little over forty; but starvation, sorrow, and hard work had made her prematurely aged. When she entered the room, she looked around anxiously; but as soon as she saw Justine, she covered her face with her thin hands, and began to weep. "Is this your daughter?" asked the Master, pointing to Justine. "I am her mother, sure enough, sir; but she have cast me off long ago. Oh, Justine girl, speak a word to me! You are my girl, for all that's past and gone."