She bangs and shrieks again, and states that she will get his name
from the charge sheet in the morning and have him up for criminal
libel, and have his cell mate up as a witness--and hers, too. But
just here a policeman comes along and closes her wicket with a bang
and cuts her off, so that her statements become indistinct, or come
only as shrieks from a lost soul in an underground dungeon. He also
threatens to cut us off and smother us if we don't shut up. I wonder
whether they've got her in the padded cell.

We settle down again, but presently my fellow captive nudges me and
says: "Listen!" From another cell comes the voice of a woman
singing--the girl who is in for "inciting to resist, your worship,"
in fact. "Listen!" he says, "that woman could sing once." Her
voice is low and sweet and plaintive, as of a woman who had been a
singer but had lost her voice. And what do you think it is?

The crowd in accents hushed reply--
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Mrs Johnson's cell is suddenly silent. Then, not mimickingly,
mockingly, or scornfully, but as if the girl is a champion of Jesus
of Nazareth, and is hurt at the ignorance of the multitude, and pities
_Him_:

Now who is this Jesus of Nazareth, say?

The policeman, coming along the passage, closes the wicket in her door,
but softly this time, and not before we catch the plaintive words
again.