Norah drew herself up. "You may ask that question, and taunt me with my
being single, and with my credulity, as you will, Master Openshaw. You'll
get no answer from me. As for the brooch, and the story of theft and
burglary; if any friend ever came to see me (which I defy you to prove,
and deny), he'd be just as much above doing such a thing as you yourself,
Mr. Openshaw, and more so, too; for I'm not at all sure as everything you
have is rightly come by, or would be yours long, if every man had his
own." She meant, of course, his wife; but he understood her to refer to
his property in goods and chattels.

"Now, my good woman," said he, "I'll just tell you truly, I never trusted
you out and out; but my wife liked you, and I thought you had many a good
point about you. If you once begin to sauce me, I'll have the police to
you, and get out the truth in a court of justice, if you'll not tell it
me quietly and civilly here. Now the best thing you can do is quietly to
tell me who the fellow is. Look here! a man comes to my house; asks for
you; you take him up-stairs, a valuable brooch is missing next day; we
know that you, and Mary, and cook, are honest; but you refuse to tell us
who the man is. Indeed you've told one lie already about him, saying no
one was here last night. Now I just put it to you, what do you think a
policeman would say to this, or a magistrate? A magistrate would soon
make you tell the truth, my good woman."

"There's never the creature born that should get it out of me," said
Norah. "Not unless I choose to tell."

"I've a great mind to see," said Mr. Openshaw, growing angry at the
defiance. Then, checking himself, he thought before he spoke again: