“You are sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“You do not recognize in him one of your assailants, for instance?”
“No,” she seemed to hesitate, as though struck by the idea. “No, I do not think so. Of course they wore beards—false ones the examining magistrate thought, but still—no.” Now she seemed to make her mind up definitely. “I am sure neither of the two was this man.”
“Very well, madame. That is all, then.”
She stepped out with head erect, the sun flashing on the silver threads in her hair. Jack Renauld succeeded her. He, too, failed to identify the man, in a completely natural manner.
Giraud merely grunted. Whether he was pleased or chagrined I could not tell. He merely called to Marchaud:
“You have got the other there?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Bring her in then.”