e."

Heedless of the fact that she had had no food since the morning, she
went out again, and presently found herself in a long narrow street
where all the houses partook of the same character, each jutting on the
causeway. At one of the corner houses she saw the words, "Brunclough
Lane." Her heart was beating wildly, and she was excited beyond
measure. The more she reflected, the more she became convinced of the
importance of what she had done. She told no one of what she was
thinking, or of the chain of reasoning which had led her to go to
Paul's office that morning. But she had not acted thoughtlessly. Her
father's account of the meeting with Archie Fearn, and what the man had
said to him, had altogether changed her plans. Hitherto she could not
help acting on the assumption that Paul's mother was guilty of this
dread deed, consequently all her inquiries had been influenced by this
belief. Up to now they had ended in nothing, even as had those of her
father. Directly she had become convinced, however, that Paul's mother
could have known nothing of the murder, and that on the very night when
it took place her mind must naturally have been filled with other
things, she saw that she must go on entirely different lines. As a
consequence of this she had made her seemingly unaccountable visit to
Paul's office, and had made what Standring regarded as an almost
unprecedented request, to examine the wage-books. When she had gone,
Standring went through those same books again. He was trying to
discover Mary's motive in all this, and was wondering whether she
suspected him of immoral practice in relation to the wages of the
operatives. No suspicion of the truth, however, entered his mind, and
although many curious eyes watched her as she came into Brunclough Lane
that afternoon, no one dreamed of her reason for going there.

She was not long in finding the number she sought. A hard-featured
woman, about forty-five years of age, came to the door in response to
her knock.

"Does Emily Dodson live here?"

"Ay," said the woman, looking at her suspiciously. "And who might yo'
be?"

"I'm Mr. Paul Stepaside's sister," said Mary.

The woman did not speak, but looked at her visitor suspiciously. Had
Mary been watching her face just then, she would have noted that her
eyes seemed to contract themselves, and that her square jaw became set
and defiant.

"Are you Emily Dodson's mother?"

"Ay, I am."

"Is she in