“Mrs. Weathered informs me that she placed the letters in your possession and I am here to ask you for them.”
Madame Bonnell did some hard thinking and did it quickly, too.
“Mrs. Weathered is a madwoman. She is not responsible for her actions, and her word is not to be believed. I am surprised that you should expect me to take such a story seriously. If you believe I have the letters, look for them.”
It was a gallant last stand. She must have known that every inch of the premises had been searched already.
Tarleton smiled at her. He was beginning to warm to his work.
“If I am to take advantage of that permission, Madame, I shall have to ask you to accompany me to Newgate Street, where there is a female searcher. You probably carry the letters about with you.”
A sudden spark, a very ugly and dangerous spark, was kindled in the woman’s eyes at the mention of a female searcher. It went out again instantly. Madame folded her arms.
“If you believe what you say, it makes no difference. You say that Mrs. Weathered gave me those letters. Why isn’t she here to ask for them back? I have a right to keep them till she does.”
This was true, unfortunately. But Madame had just been betrayed into revealing her weak point, about which the representative of the Home Office had been pretty confident before. He now turned to Inspector Charles.
“I am afraid I must leave the matter to you, Inspector.”