Dropping onto a ragged couch, she stared obstinately out of the dirty window.
"Excuse me, madam, for intruding," said Harley to the woman with the baby, "but Polly has some information of use to the police. Oh, don't be alarmed. She has committed no crime. I shall only detain her for a few minutes."
He bowed to the tired-looking woman and closed the sitting-room door. "Now, young woman," he said, sternly, adopting the official manner of his friend, Inspector Wessex, "I am going to give you one warning, and one only. Although I don't think you know it, you have got mixed up with a gang of crooks. Play the game with me, and I'll stand by you. Try any funny business and you'll go to jail."
The official manner had its effect. Miss Jones looked sharply across at the speaker. "I haven't done anything," she said, sullenly.
Paul Harley advanced and stood over her. "What about the trick with the serviettes at Sir Charles Abingdon's?" he asked, speaking the words in slow and deliberate fashion.
The shaft went home, but the girl possessed a stock of obstinate courage. "What about it?" she inquired, but her voice had changed.
"Who made you do it?"
"What's that to you?"
Paul Harley drew out his watch, glanced at the
