Then it was true! This was the kindly neighbour, about whom the prison governor had spoken. It was her mother, that tall, lovely woman who paced the prison flags with such unconcern. “A kind neighbour took the child”--Mrs. Reddle was the kind neighbour, and had brought her up in ignorance of her origin. The printed page swam before her eyes as she sat, her hands tightly clasped, her mind confounded by the confirmation of this tremendous discovery. Her mother was innocent. It was something more than a natural revolt against the thought that in her veins ran the blood of a murderess; it was a conviction, an inspiration, the faith which is knowledge. She went back to her lodgings, calm and determined. She would prove her mother’s innocence, devoting her life to that object. Chapter Six Charlotte Street was deserted when she turned the corner. Passing a small closed coupé that stood by the side-walk, she was half-way up the street, and was turning to cross, when she saw the car coming towards her at full speed, and stopped in the roadway to let it pass. Its headlights were burning very dimly, she noticed--in the idle way of one whose mind was fully occupied elsewhere. The car came on, gaining momentum, and then, when it was a dozen yards away, it swerved suddenly towards her. Her first impulse was to step back, but an instinct beyond understanding made her leap ahead. If the driver had corrected his swerve she could not have escaped death. That spring saved her; the edge of the mudguard grazed her dress and some small and jagged projection ripped a two-inch strip from her skirt as neatly as though it had been cut by scissors. In another second the car had passed, speeding towards Fitzroy Square, its rear light dark, its number invisible. For a second the girl stood, bereft of breath, trembling in every limb; and then somebody darted out of the doorway of her house and came towards her, and before she saw his face she knew him. “Close call that,” drawled Michael Dorn. “What happened?” she asked. “They must have lost control, I think.” “Yes, they must have lost control,” he said quietly. “You didn’t see the number, I suppose?” She shook her head. In her then state of nerves the question irritated her. “Of course I did not see the number. Do you want me, Mr. Dorn?” “I came to see how you were after your unpleasant experience.” She faced him squarely. “What do you mean? What unpleasant experience?” she asked. “I was referring to the little accident for which I was partly responsible,” he answered coolly. “I regard any road collision as unpleasant. But possibly you’re a more hardened motorist than I am.” She shook her head. “You don’t mean that at all. You mean--you mean--what happened at the prison.” He bent down towards her. “What did happen at the prison?” he asked in a low voice. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,” she said, and, turning abruptly from him, went into the house and closed the door almost in his face.