to meet Aunt
Hannah, and return after a day or two in the _Virtuous Lady_. Susannah--
weak soul--had furthered the conspiracy because she too had begun to fear
for Clem, and wished him well clear of his uncle's roof. She acted
'for the best,' but broke down in the act of tearing the children asunder,
and told her lie shamefacedly. The result was that Mr. Sam, hearing
Myra's screams overhead as he paced the hall, had rushed upstairs, caught
her by both wrists as she clung to her brother, forced her into her own
bedroom, and turned and pocketed the key.

Four times since, in that interminable day of anguish, Susannah had come
pleading and whimpering to the door with food. Mr. Sam, on returning from
the station, had given her the key with instructions to release the girl
on a promise of good behaviour.

"Be sensible, Miss Myra--now, do! 'Tis to a home he's gone, where he'll be
looked after and taught and tended, and you'll see him every holidays.
A fine building, sure 'nough! Look, I've brought you a picture of it!"

Susannah, defying instructions, had unlocked and opened the door.
Myra snatched the paper from her--it was, in fact, a prospectus of the
institution--crumpled it up and thrust it in her pocket. With that, the
last gust of her passion seemed to spend itself. She turned, and walking
straight to the window-seat, coiled herself among the cushions with face
averted and chin upon hand. To Susannah the traitress she deigned no
word.

Thrice again Susannah came pleading, each time with a tray and something
to tempt Myra's appetite. Myra did not turn her head. Departing for the
fourth time, Susannah left the door ajar. The siege, then, was raised,
the imprisonment over. Myra listened to her footsteps descending the
stairs, walked to the door, shifted the key from the outer to the inner
keyhole, and locked herself in. By this time the wintry dusk had begun to
fall. Resuming her seat by the window, she fell to watching the courtyard
again, her body motionless, her small brain working.

Dusk had deepened to darkness in the courtyard when she heard a footfall
she recognised. It was Archelaus Libby's, on his way home from school to
his loft, to deposit his books there and wash before seeking his tea in
the kitchen.

Myra straightened her body, and opened the window softly.

"Archelaus!" she called as loudly as she dared.

"Miss Myra?" The footsteps halted.

"Hush, Archelaus, and come nearer. I wan