But he could get no admission from her--nothing but the same statement, with added details each time he made her tell it, that she had killed a dog.
They fed her, and she ate like a hyena.

No caste prejudices or forbidden foods troubled her; she ate whatever came her way, Hindoo food, or Mohammedan, or Christian,--and reached for more--and finished, as hyenas finish, by breaking bones to get the marrow out.

At midnight they left her, curled dogwise on a mat in the hall, to sleep; and at dawn, when they came to wake her, she was gone again--gone utterly, without a trace or sign of explanation.

The doors, both front and back, were locked.
It was two days later when they found a hole torn through the thatch, through which she had escaped; and though they searched the house from cellar up to roof, and turned all their small possessions over, they could not find (and they were utterly glad of it) that she had stolen anything.
"Thank God for that!" said the missionary.
"I've finished disbelieving in Joanna!" said his daughter with a grimace that went always with irrevocable decision.
"I've come to the conclusion," said McClean, "that there are more than just Joanna to be trusted.

There is Ali Partab, and--who knows how many ?".