THE MAYOR Here, then, thought Brereton, was Gentleman Jack's daughter--the girl of whom Bent had just been telling him.

He looked at her narrowly as she stood confronting the strange group.

A self-possessed young woman, he said to himself--beyond a little heightening of colour, a little questioning look about eyes and lips she showed no trace of undue surprise or fear.

Decidedly a good-looking young woman, too, and not at all the sort of daughter that a man of queer character would be supposed to have--refined features, an air of breeding, a suggestion of culture.
And he noticed that as he and Bent raised their hats, the two policemen touched their helmets--they were evidently well acquainted with the girl, and eyed her with some misgiving as well as respect.
"Beg pardon, miss," said the sergeant, who was obviously anything but pleased with his task.

"But it's like this, d'you see ?--your father, now, does he happen to be at home ?" "What is it you want ?" she asked.