It did not
show. I dared not wait longer. I turned out the light, and hurried out of
the room and downstairs. Again I turned out the light, and closed the
door, and hurried away.
"That, monsieur, is my story."
CHAPTER XXIII
As Gabrielle finished her story, she cast a quick glance at Crewe's face
as though seeking to divine his decision. But apparently she could read
nothing there, and with an imperious gesture she exclaimed:
"You will do what I ask now that I have exposed my secret--my shame to
you--and told everything? You will save Madame Holymead from being
persecuted by these police agents?"
"I must ask you a few questions first."
The contrast between the detective's quiet English tones and the
Frenchwoman's impetuous appeal was accentuated by the methodical way in
which Crewe slowly jotted down an entry in his open notebook. Her dark
eyes sparkled in an agony of impatience as she watched him.
"Ask them quick, monsieur, for I burn in the suspense."
"In the first place, then, have you any--"
"Hold, monsieur! I know what you would ask! You would say if I have any
proofs? Stupid that I am to forget things so important.
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