Hill frowning and
shaking her head at somebody invisible. He turned his head warily, but
she was too quick for him, and her features were impassive again when he
looked at her. Following the direction indicated by the mirror, Inspector
Chippenfield saw Mrs. Hill had been signalling through a window which
looked into the back yard. He reached it in a step and threw open the
window. A small and not over-clean little girl was just leaving the yard
by the gate.
Inspector Chippenfield called to her pleasantly, and she retraced her
steps with a frightened face.
"Come in, my dear, I want you," said the inspector, wreathing his red
face into a smile. "I'm fond of little girls."
The little girl smiled, nodded her head, and presently appeared in
response to the inspector's invitation. He glanced at Mrs. Hill, noticed
that her face was grey and drawn with sudden terror. She opened her mouth
as though to speak, but no words came.
The inspector lifted the child on to his knee. She nestled to him
confidingly enough, and looked up into his face with an artless glance.
"What is your name, my dear?"
"Daphne, sir--Daphne Hill."
"How old are you, Daphne?"
"Please, sir, I'm eight next birthday.
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