Now you are
hot. Now you are ice cold."
There was a table in the middle of the room, with one or two volumes of
photographs and brightly-bound guide books of Paris upon it, as well as
my hat and gloves which I had tossed down as I came in. The gendarmes
picked up these things, examined them, laid them aside, peered under the
table; peeped behind the silk cushions on the sofa, opened the doors and
drawers of a bric-a-brac cabinet and a small writing desk, lifted the
corners of the rugs on the bare, polished floor; and finally, bowing
apologies to Maxine for disturbing her, took out the logs from the
fireplace where the fire was ready for lighting, and pried into the
vases on the mantel. Also they shook the silk and lace window curtains,
and moved the pictures on the walls. When all this had been done in
vain, the pair confessed with shrugs of the shoulders that they were at
a loss.
During the search, which had been conducted in silence, I had a curious
sensation, caused by my intense sympathy with Maxine's suffering. I felt
as if my heart were the pendulum of a clock which had been jarred until
it was uncertain whether to go on or stop.
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