Bessie covered her mouth to suppress a scream. But something whispered, "Hush! Keep still! They know nothing!"
Early next day she was awakened by the sound of many men's voices downstairs, and her mother's voice in angry protestation.
"I tell thee, I know nothing about it. The girl came home to me three days ago, and I put her to bed, and she has never since been out of it."
"They all say that, ma'am," said one of the men. It was Cain, the constable.
A little later, while Bessie lay with closed eyes and her face to the wall, she became aware of several persons in her bedroom, and one of them leaning over her. She knew it was Cain—she could hear his asthmatical breathing.
"Is she really unconscious, doctor?"
"Undoubtedly she is. You can leave her for a few days anyway. She'll not run away, you see."
After that, listening intently, Bessie heard the constable ranging the room as if examining everything.
"What's this?" he asked.
Bessie drew a quick breath, but dared not look around.