Bessie heard no more. A cloud passed over her brain that was like the rolling mist that alternately reveals and conceals a bell-buoy at sea. When it cleared she heard a strange woman's voice outside the house--her bedroom door had been left open that her mother might hear her if she called. "I didn't know thy daughter had come home, Liza Collister." "And how dost thou know now, Bridget Skillicorne?" "How? There's someones coming will tell thee how, woman." Bessie felt as if somebody had struck her in the face. Had anything become known? Later she heard her step-father speaking in the kitchen. "Is she herself yet." "Not yet." "Better she never should be." "Sakes alive, man, what art thou saying?" "I'm saying that old trollop on the brews is after finding something under the _Clagh-ny-Dooiney_ and sending her man to the police to fetch it." "Fetch what?" "Just a parcel in a silk scarf with a lil arm sticking out--that's all, ma'am." The doctor at the hospital had been holding a post-mortem, and now Cain, the constable, was to make a house to house visitation of the parish to find the mother of the child. Bessie covered her mouth to suppress a scream. But something whispered, "Hush! Keep still! They know nothing!" Early next day she was awakened by the sound of many men's voices downstairs, and her mother's voice in angry protestation. "I tell thee, I know nothing about it. The girl came home to me three days ago, and I put her to bed, and she has never since been out of it." "They all say that, ma'am," said one of the men. It was Cain, the constable. A little later, while Bessie lay with closed eyes and her face to the wall, she became aware of several persons in her bedroom, and one of them leaning over her. She knew it was Cain--she could hear his asthmatical breathing. "Is she really unconscious, doctor?" "Undoubtedly she is. You can leave her for a few days anyway. She'll not run away, you see." After that, listening intently, Bessie heard the constable ranging the room as if examining everything. "What's this?" he asked. Bessie drew a quick breath, but dared not look around. "Only a remnant seemingly," said the doctor. "We'll be taking it with us, though," said the constable, and then the rolling mist of unconsciousness covered everything again. When it passed Bessie knew that the police were suspecting her. They thought they had found her out, and they were going to bring the whole machinery of the law to punish her. What a wicked thing the law was! She had injured nobody--nobody that anybody had ever seen in this world. She had only tried to save somebody she loved from shame and pain. And yet the constables, the courts and the coroners were all in a conspiracy to crush one poor girl! No matter! She would deny everything.