The pious Catholic Sergeant burst into speech: "Holy Mary! it's a woman!" Did the secret societies of Ireland enrol women?
Was this a modern Judith, expressing herself by anonymous letters, and bent on assassinating a financial Holofernes who kept a bank?
What account had she to give of herself?
How came she to be alone in a desolate field on a rainy night?
Instead of answering these questions, the inscrutable stranger preferred a bold and brief request.

"Take me to Sir Giles"-- was all she said to the police.
The Sergeant had the handcuffs ready.

After looking at the prisoner's delicate wrists by the lantern-light, he put his fetters back in his pocket.

"A lady--and no doubt about it," he said to one of his assistants.
The two men waited, with a mischievous interest in seeing what he would do next.

The list of their pious officer's virtues included a constitutional partiality for women, which exhibited the merciful side of justice when a criminal wore a petticoat.