She waved one slender hand in the direction of a violet brocaded chair.
"Sit down, Monsieur l'inspecteur," she commanded, for it was rather a
command than an invitation.
Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and sat down.
"Ah, M. Knox!" exclaimed Madame, turning to me with one of her rapid
movements, "is your friend afraid to face me, then? Does he think that
he has failed? Does he think that I condemn him?"
"He knows that he has failed, Madame de Staemer," I replied, "but his
absence is due to the fact that at this hour he is hot upon the trail
of the assassin."
"What!" she exclaimed, "what!"--and bending forward touched my arm.
"Tell me again! Tell me again!"
"He is following a clue, Madame de Staemer, which he hopes will lead to
the truth."
"Ah! if I could believe it would lead to the truth," she said. "If I
dared to believe this."
"Why should it not?"
She shook her head, smiling with such a resigned sadness that I averted
my gaze and glanced across at Val Beverley who was seated on the
opposite side of the bed.
"If you knew--if you knew."
I looked again into the tragic face, and realized that this was an
older woman than the brilliant hostess I had known.
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