The detective, obeying the hypnotic eye of the policeman, knocked. There
was silence. The bluecoat, my one ally, was crouching for a spring. Then
light steps crossed the room, and the door was opened. There stood a
girl,--a most attractive girl, the girl that I had seen downstairs.
Straight and slender, spiritedly gracious in bearing, with gray eyes
questioning us from beneath lashes of crinkly black, she was a radiant
figure as she stood facing us, with a coat of bright-blue velvet thrown
over her rosy gown.
"Beg pardon, miss," said the policeman, brightly, "this gintleman's been
robbed."
As her eyebrows went up a fraction, I could have murdered him, for how
else could she read his statement save that I took her for the thief?
"I am very sorry," I explained, bowing formally, "to disturb you. We
are hunting a thief who took French leave by my fire-escape. I must have
been mistaken--I thought that he dodged in again by this window. You
have not seen or heard anything of him, of course?"
"No, I haven't. But then, I just this instant came up from dinner,"
she replied.
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