Hardly had we pulled the rag from its string, when the detective came bearing in his capture professionalwise. He did not actually carry the old woman, but he lifted her before him at a sort of helpless run. I was glad to see at least that she had recovered her nerves of motion, as I had feared that her downfall might have signified a stroke of some sort. He flopped her unceremoniously into a chair, where she sat rocking and weeping and mumbling, and swaying her head and hands up and down like a Japanese tortoise. But, for all her apparent collapse, I had a shrewd idea that her eyes were not failing to take stock of me, and that her mind was busy over that association of ideas which my return in company with the law could not have failed to suggest. She kept up her mechanical moaning, I thought, simply to gain time. “Now, ma’am,” said the detective suavely. “When you’re quite recovered.” Her moans rose the windier at that, but presently with scraps of articulation threading them. “O good sir the deuce! ... O my heart and lungs! ... the shock of it good sir ... wouldn’t hurt a fly the devil take it ... O what a libel and slander on poor old Mother Carey the deuce!” “Jannaway,” said Mr Shapter, “we can’t undertake to breathe this atmosphere indefinitely. You’d better call a cab, and remove this woman.” “Very well, sir.” The suggestion wrought its desired effect. Mother Carey became all in a moment distinct to tearfulness. “O good gentlemen, what is it you want of me? O that I should have lived to hear my deuced self accused of the devil and all! Is it anything about this young gentleman? O I’ll tell you the truth I will!” “That’ll do, then,” said the detective. “It won’t serve you the worse perhaps in the long run. You’re pretty deep involved, you know, old lady; but mayhap there’s another deeper yet. Don’t be saying now you was never in collusion with Mr Dalston, because I know better. We’re coming to him in good time; but just for the present the question stands with you. Do you understand what I mean, a-linking of you and him together? Of course you do, a woman of your cleverness. Well, look at this young gentleman. Have you seen him afore?” She whispered something, huddled into herself. “What! more than once, perhaps,” said Mr Jannaway. “Right you are, I do believe. It was him, wasn’t it now, you played the dutiful grandmother to once upon a time, and ended by palming off on your daughter as her own very partic’lar offspring? That was a cute move, upon my word; and it paid you, didn’t it--paid you nigh as well as Mr Dalston did for putting that other out of the way?” She uttered a thin screech, and sank upon her quaking ignoble old knees.