"No. He said that Mrs. Vence had murdered Sir Hector."
"Well, I am not Mrs. Vence, I am Lady Wyke."
"Rot!" said the sergeant, angrily. "What the deuce are you wasting my time for in telling lies? You are Lady Wyke sure enough, but you have been masquerading for some purpose as an old woman under the name of Mrs. Vence."
"You can prove nothing against me, said Lady Wyke, sullenly.
"Yes, we can. An operation will restore young Mellin to health, and his evidence will hang you."
"Hang me?" Lady Wyke shivered.
"Yes. There is no escape, But you had better not say any more. I don't want to trap you into a confession. Get up and come along with me. I must take you to Redleigh Goal."
"Oh," groaned the woman, looking at her handcuffs and then wrathfully at the white face of Miss Lemby, "and to think that the girl should get the better of me! But I'm not beaten yet."
"Here, get up and come along," said Purse, harshly, and bent to lift her.
"Wait!" shrieked Lady Wyke, who now saw that there was indeed no escape, and that the time had come for her to pay in full for her wickedness. "I have a word to say first."