I felt that if I went to the door and ratified my instinctive suspicion I should be unable to control myself. So I kept quiet and would not go to see what I feared was true. But in the grey dawning when I was quieter⁠—though I had not slept⁠—I crept out and went towards the door. And it was even as I had thought.

Some months ago there was a case in the police court, where it was alleged an inmate of a casual ward was “locked” in her cell. The superintendent stated upon oath that this was not so. “There are,” he said, “no keys.”

I know of no better example of the letter of the truth⁠—and the violation of the spirit. There are no keys, but, as I have said, when the casual is duly in bed, the handle of the door is withdrawn.