“Why didn’t you go straight to the police and tell them all you knew this afternoon? That man in the house was only a servant, who didn’t care what you knew.” “I ain’t lucky,” he said cunningly. “It’s all right if they comes to you, then you has to answer. But it’s never no good to go and blow the gaff on any one. You gets it in the neck after.” “That’s nonsense,” with uneasy sharpness. What if the child were right? “I never was in no cab before,” he remarked gaily. “It’s fine, ain’t it? Where are we going?” “We’re nearly there.” She peered out into the silent, dreary streets evasively. “I say, you’re not taking me to no refuge?” he cried suspiciously. “Because I won’t go, and you can’t make me. I earn my living, I do.” “No, we’re not going to--a refuge,” she answered, with a pang at her heart. For truly she was going into the lion’s mouth. They had turned under a stone archway, and the hansom stopped at an open door, where the cold electric light shone relentlessly. She dared not stop to pay the cab, for the boy, with a yell, and a wild squirm, was trying to get away from her. “I ain’t done nothing,” he screeched, “and you’re a liar. You said you’d nothing to do with the coppers, and you’ve brought me to Scotland Yard!” He bit at her hand as she forced him into the grim hall, under the glaring lights. “Listen!” she cried; “no one’s going to hurt you. It’s I they’ll hurt if it’s any one. You’re not going to get anything but good.” But the bootblack merely roared and kicked. Two policemen, who were standing by a door, came forward. “What’s the matter, miss?” one asked affably. “Has he been picking your pocket? I beg your pardon, madam!” for Ismay, without slackening her hold on the writhing child, had looked at him as a queen looks at a forward servant. “He has done nothing,” she said clearly. “Is the inspector here, Mr. Davids?” she spoke on chance. Davids had been inspector here four years ago. He might have left or died since then. “Yes, madam. But----” he hesitated. “It’s very late, and these things usually go to the police court.” “Go and tell him I want to see him.” The tone was perfectly civil, but the man went as if he had been shot out of a gun. Who was this that came so late, in the clothes of a working girl, with the speech and manner of a duchess? But the inspector, sitting wearily, waiting for a report, was not much interested. He was too well used to women arriving at strange hours, and they had generally lost their umbrellas. “Let her in,” he said resignedly. “Did you say she was a lady?” “Yes, sir.” Ismay took her last coin from her pocket as the man came out. “Pay my hansom,” she said, and heard the second policeman laugh. “The like of them coming in hansoms!” And for a moment she regretted her worn-out, ugly clothes.