She was too much dazed to reply. All intellectuality seemed frozen in her. She was scarcely conscious of what he had been speaking.
He hurried her onward that he might return with her all the sooner, drawing her arm yet closer within his own protectingly.
Once upon the street, he called a carriage, and together with the officer, they entered it.
He spoke but once to her on the way to the station-house, and then she did not reply. He attempted no further conversation, but watched her fearfully, noting with horror the stoniness of her countenance.
She seemed to be unconscious of her surroundings when she was placed in the narrow cell, and when they came to her again some time later, they found her in the exact position in which she had been left. Not a muscle seemed to have been disturbed.
Lynde Pyne entered there with an officer. He took her by the hand, and gently lifted her to her feet.
"Come," he said, gently, "we will return to your home again."
Some intelligence struggled to her eyes.
"I am no longer a prisoner, then?" she asked, dully.
"No!"