policeman. 'He's stolen her--her father! Catch them!' I said. 'However
shall I face my mistress?'" She stopped for breath, then burst out
again. "'He's a bad one,' I said. 'A foreigner! They're both
foreigners!' 'Her father?' he said. 'Well, why shouldn't he? He's only
givin' her a joy ride. He'll bring her back, never you fear.' And I ran
home--I didn't know where you were. Oh dear! The major away and
all--what was I to do? I'd just turned round to shut the gate of the
square gardens, and I never saw him till he'd put his great long arm over
the pram and snatched her out." And, sitting on the bed, she gave way
utterly.

Gyp stood still. Nemesis for her happiness? That vengeful wretch,
Rosek! This was his doing. And she said:

"Oh, Betty, she must be crying!"

A fresh outburst of moans was the only answer. Gyp remembered suddenly
what the lawyer had said over a year ago--it had struck her with terror
at the time. In law, Fiorsen owned and could claim her child. She could
have got her back, then, by bringing a horrible case against him, but
now, perhaps, she had no chance. Was it her return to Fiorsen that they
aimed at--or the giving up of her lover? She went over to her mirror,
saying:

"We'll go at once, Betty, and get her back somehow. Wash your face."

While she made ready, she fought down those two horrible fears--of losing
her child, of losing her lover; the less she feared, the better she could
act, the more subtly, the swifter. She remembered that she had somewhere
a little stiletto, given her a long time ago. She hunted it out, slipped
off its red-leather sheath, and, stabbing the point into a tiny cork,
slipped it beneath her blouse. If they could steal her baby, they were
capable of anything. She wrote a note to her father, telling him what
had happened, and saying where she had gone. Then, in a taxi, they set
forth. Cold water and the calmness of her mistress had removed from
Betty the main traces of emotion; but she clasped Gyp's hand hard and
gave vent to heavy sighs.

Gyp would not think. If she thought of her little one crying, she knew
she would cry, too. But her hatred for those who had dealt this cowardly
blow grew within her. She took a resolution and said quietly:

"Mr. Summerhay, Betty. That's why they've stolen our darling. I suppose
you know he and I care for each other. They've stolen her so as to make
me do anything they like."

A profound sigh answe