do the questioning. Nance
Olden," he turned suddenly on me, his manner changed and threatening,
"what has become of that three hundred dollars?"

"Mr. Chief, you know just as much about that as I do."

I threw up my head and looked him full in the face. It was over
now--all the shivering and trembling and fearing. Nance Olden's not a
coward when she's fighting for her freedom; and fighting alone without
any sympathizing friend to weaken her.

He returned the look with interest.

"I may know more," he said insinuatingly.

"Possibly." I shrugged my shoulders.

No, it wasn't put on. There never yet was a man who bullied me that
didn't rouse the fighter in me. I swore to myself that this old
thief-catcher shouldn't rattle me.

"Doesn't it occur to you that under the circumstances a full confession
might be the very best thing for you? I shouldn't wonder if these
people would be inclined to be lenient with you if you'd return the
money. Doesn't it occur--"

"It might occur to me if I had anything to confess--about this purse."

"How long since you've seen Mrs. Edward Ramsay?" He rushed the
question at me.

I jumped.

"How do you know I've ever seen her?"

"I do know you have."

"I don't believe you."

"Thank you; neither do I believe you, which is more to the point.
Come, answer the question: how long is it since you have seen the lady?"

I looked at him. And then I looked at my glove, and slowly pulled the
fingers inside out, and then--then I giggled. Suddenly it came to
me--that silly, little insane dodge of mine in the Bishop's carriage
that day; the girl who had lost her name; and the use all that affair
might be to me if ever--

"I'll tell you if you'll let me think a minute," I said sweetly.
"It--it must be all of fifteen months."

"Ah! You see I did know that you've met the lady. If you're wise
you'll draw deductions as to other things I know that you don't think I
do.... And where did you see her?"

"In her own home."

"Called there," he sneered, "alone?"

"No," I said very gently. "I went there, to the best of my
recollection, with the Bishop--yes, it was the Bishop, Bishop Van
Wagenen."

"Indeed!"

I could see that he didn't believe a word I was saying, which made me
happily eager to tell him more.

"Yes, we drove up to the Square one afternoon in the Bishop's
carriage--the fat, plum-colored one, you know. We had tea there--at
least, I did. I was to have spent the