What if in her absence _They_ had kidnapped her child--little Alice, born in agony of flesh and spirit, so different from those other babies, the heirs of ease and security; little Alice, the child for whom she had fought and suffered and endured alone. It was her They were after: Ruth never doubted that. She had seen it in Lady Augusta's eyes, as she passed her in the porch of the hostel; in the downward glances of those other members of the committee she had met upon the cliff; in the voice and bearing of her mother-in-law. She rushed upstairs. Alice, busiest of little mothers, had tucked the other three away in bed a little before their time because she wanted to do it all alone and without her mother's help. Now she was turning down her own bed. Her aim successfully achieved she was free to bestow on her mother a happy smile. Ruth swept her up in her arms, and bore her away into her own room, devouring her with passionate eyes. "You shall sleep along o me place o daddy," she said, and kissed her hungrily. "What about Susie and Jenny, mum?" asked the child. "We'll leave the door open so we can hear," answered Ruth, remarking even then the child's thoughtfulness. "See, daddy wants you to take care o mother." Alice gave a quick nod of understanding. Next morning Ruth refused to let her go to school with the others, would not let her leave the house. "You'll stay along with me," she said, fierce for once. At eleven o'clock there came a knock. Ruth hustled the child out into the backyard, shoved her into the coal-shed, turned the key on her, and locked the backdoor. Then she went very quietly not to the front-door but to the window, opening it a crack with the utmost stealth. Kneeling she listened. Whoever was at the door was very quiet, not a man. If it had been he would have spat by now, or sworn. "Who is it? she asked. "Mrs. Lewknor," came the reply. Ruth opened. The little lady entered, and followed into the kitchen. "Is it all right, 'M?" asked Ruth anxiously. "It's going to be," replied the other, firm and confident. "You've got your marriage-certificate if we should want it?" Ruth sighed her relief. "O yes, 'M. I got my lines all right. They're in the tin box under the bed." She was running upstairs to fetch them when the other stayed her. "There's just one thing," said Mrs. Lewknor gravely. "It would help Mrs. Trupp and me very much, if you could give us some sort of idea where you were on September 14th, 1906--if you can throw your mind back all that great way." "I was with _him_!" Ruth answered in a flash. She was fighting for her best-beloved: everything must be sacrificed to save her--even Royal. "It was _the day_!" she panted. "It were the first time ever I was in a car--that's one why I remember: Alf drove us." "D'you happen to remember at all where you went?" tentatively.