"Yes, sir," she said, dreamily, and lingering over her syllables as if she found a new pleasure in the exercise of speech. "You had so much to say, an' the other people had so much to say, that the room seemed chock full o' words. They was flyin' round ever so thick, but I couldn't ketch one o' them."
"Well, now, you've got to quit lying and tell us where you come from," said the assistant inspector, roughly. "You've got to be sent home to-morrow."
"Sent home?" she repeated wonderingly.
"Yes—to Canada. Now tell us the name of the place you belong to, or we'll ship you to some poorhouse."
"Do I come from Canada?" she asked, with a mystified air.
Jack jogged his assistant's elbow. "Seemed to me there was the smell of a ship about her."
"Not so," responded Blakeman who prided himself on distinguishing nationalities. "She hasn't any European accent. She's from right over the border here somewhere."
"Do you know my mother?" 'Tilda Jane was eagerly asking the assistant inspector.
"Yes—know her well. If you don't speak up I'll telegraph her."