“Ah!” Tarleton’s deep breath told me that he felt himself on a real trail. “And how was this person disguised?”
“The disguise was an extraordinary one, milor. It was that which first attracted my notice. It was at once the costume of a man and of a woman. That is to say, the upper part was that of a warrior in armour, and the lower part was a woman’s skirt.”
“Joan of Arc,” exclaimed Charles.
The Frenchman shrank in horror. “But, monsieur, it could not have been Sainte Jeanne! For instance, the helmet was Roman.”
“Neither did she wear a skirt with her armour,” the physician added quietly. “It must have been meant for Zenobia.”
The Inspector’s face showed so clearly that he had never heard of the famous Queen of Palmyra that I should have been amused if I had not been on the rack of suspense. Fortunately, Tarleton was now engrossed in his new line of inquiry.
“In spite of this feminine disguise, in spite of the skirt, you recognized that this stranger was a man, it seems?”
The eloquent hands protested again. “But no, milor; I said I had my suspicion, that is all. Madame——”
The doctor cut him short.
“You thought this person, Zenobia, had some business with Wilson. Tell me, how many persons knew that Wilson wore that disguise last night?”