“Police! Police! Murdher! Hilp!”
Her cry had immediate effect. Some one came running towards her. The crowd fell back, and indeed dispersed almost in silence at the approach of the little, uniformed figure which descended upon them. He made his way straight to Norah with wonder. She watched the magic effect of his coming upon the crowd, and as he came up to her she spoke admiringly:
“Shure it’s the Mikado himself yer afther being, I should think, from the grand way you’re threated.”
He touched her arm with a hand of authority.
“I have the honor to arrest you,” said he, in distinct English.
“Arrest me!” shouted the now irate Norah. “And who in Harry are you?”
“Police,” said the little man, shortly.
“You a policeman!” cried Norah. “Now the saints forgive you for the lie! Shure, I niver saw a policeman of your sawed-off size before! Where I come from—”
But the grip upon her arm had tightened. Indignantly Norah sought to withdraw, but to her astonishment she could not move. The little, “sawed-off” policeman held her in a tighter grip than any Irish policeman could have done. Norah’s red face blazed.
“It’s yersilf that’ll be arrested for the outrage,” she said, and then began to wail aloud in most distressing accents.