“It is quite true, constable,” she said.  “I have put these things on in a hurry, but I am going to see Mr. Withers on a question of life and death.  Take me to the vicarage, and if when you get there you find my story is not true you can lock me up if you like.”

The constable was puzzled.  The voice was apparently that of a lady, and yet her attire, and her presence abroad at two o’clock in the morning, was suspicious in the extreme.  He paused irresolute.

“I don’t like to disturb the vicar at this time of night,” he said.  “I will take you to the village lockup and go up to him in the morning.”

“Please don’t do that,” she said.  “I am a lady, and have a very good reason for what I am doing.  I can promise you that Mr. Withers will not be angry at being called up; indeed he will be greatly pleased.  Come, constable,” she went on, seeing that he hesitated, “I will give you a couple of guineas to take me direct to the vicarage.”

“Well, ma’am,” the constable said, “if you are sure Mr. Withers will not be angry at being called up at such an hour I will take you; but you know he is a magistrate, and it would never do to play tricks upon him.”

“There are no tricks, constable.  He knows me very well, and will be pleased to see me even at this hour.”

Greatly puzzled over the whole proceeding the constable turned, and still keeping a firm hold of her collar walked his horse back toward the village.

“You really need not hold me so tightly,” Mrs. Conway said.  “If I wanted to get away I could have done so in a moment; for I have a pistol in my pocket, and could have shot you the moment you turned your lantern away from me.”

Somewhat startled at this information the constable released his hold, satisfied that his prisoner could not escape by speed.  As a measure of precaution he made her walk a pace or two ahead, and kept the light of his lantern upon her while he held his pistol ready for action in his hand in case she should suddenly turn upon him.  They went through the village, and five minutes afterward entered the gate of the vicarage.  On reaching the door Mrs. Conway rang the bell.  A moment later a window above opened.

“What is it?” a man’s voice asked.  “Am I wanted anywhere?”

“I am the mounted patrol, sir,” the constable said, “and I have met a suspicious sort of person in the road.  She said she was coming to you, and you knew her; and though it didn’t seem a likely sort of story, I thought it better to run the risk of disturbing you instead of taking her to the lockup.”

“It is I, Mr. Withers,” Mrs. Conway said, taking off her hat and stepping out so that the light of the policeman’s lantern fell upon her.  “Please let me in, I have got it.”

“Good heavens!” Mr. Withers exclaimed, startled out of his usual tranquillity.  “It is all right, constable, I will be down in a minute.”

“There, constable, you see I spoke truly,” Mrs. Conway said, and taking her purse from her pocket she extracted by the light of the lantern two guineas and handed them to the man.