“There has been something wrong over at Number 14, ma’am,” the policeman explained. “Their servant has run away with some property. We understand she was in your service before she entered Mrs. Marvel’s, and we want you to kindly answer a few questions about her—if you can.” “I will tell you all I can,” returned Lucy. “Thank you, ma’am. Was the girl Jane Smith long in your service?” Lucy considered. “Only for about five months,” she said, “a little more I think.” He made a note in his book. “Where did you get her from, ma’am? Excuse me.” “I got her through a registry office,” Lucy replied, naming it. “Took her in a hurry, without any references perhaps, ma’am,” observed the inspector. “Certainly not,” answered Lucy. “I went to her last employer,” and Lucy furnished her name and address. The man wrote them down. “Character good then, I suppose?” was the next remark. “The character was satisfactory, or I should not have taken her,” said Lucy. “Can you be sure you got the girl whose character you received?” he asked. “You know there is such a thing as personation; and the name is a common one.” “There is no mistake on that score,” Lucy replied. “Jane Smith herself opened the door to me when I went to inquire for her character.” The man was writing again. “And may I ask why you parted from her?” he went on. “She gave me notice herself because she knew she had displeased me. I had allowed her to receive a weekly visit from the young man to whom she was engaged, and then, without the least interval, or any intimation given to me, the man was changed!” Lucy was almost startled by the unshrinking directness of her words. There was a little movement between the two policemen on the doorstep, and a sort of ejaculation from Tom in the rear. Lucy, looking aside from her questioner, recognised in one of his subordinates the policeman who had found Jane’s discarded lover in her area. He made a smiling salute, and said something in a low tone to his superior. “I understand one of these men has since been found in your area in the night?” the inspector inquired. “Yes,” said Lucy, “your man found him and removed him.” “Have you any reason to think he was there for any nefarious purpose?” asked the inspector. “No; he was quite tipsy,” said Lucy. “He did not know what he was doing. I thought it was only a mistake.” “Are you sure he was quite tipsy?” urged the inspector. “Your man and my friend said so, and I could see he could scarcely walk,” Lucy answered. “It was at my request only that your man did not take him in charge. I thought he was in trouble through being deserted by this girl.” “There’s often more than meets the eye at the bottom of these here love affairs and troubles,” said the unromantic inspector; “it might have done that youth and other folks too some good to have had it all out in court. But there’s no saying. Even there such things can’t be always looked into as deep as they should be.”