Madame De Marke seemed to be aware of this, for though she appeared to follow the officer and his charge, every few minutes she would glide up to the side of her victim, and whisper some taunt or jeer that stung the woman’s wrath into fresh vigor, and in this state she was placed before the magistrate.
The moment she entered the police-office, Madame De Marke changed her whole manner; the glitter of her eyes was subdued, her demeanor became quiet, and notwithstanding her mean garments and general untidiness, there was something about her which bespoke a knowledge of good society and its usages. Besides, her face bore evidence of a keen intellect, the more remarkable from the squalid poverty of her appearance.
She advanced before the judge, and made her charge in a clear, truthful manner, that left no room for doubt, though the magistrate seemed a good deal astonished by the value of the property stolen; and when Madame, with her usual boast, spoke of rolling in gold, an incredulous smile stole across his lips.
Madame De Marke saw the smile, and a little of her natural shrewishness broke forth.
“You don’t believe me; you think, perhaps, I stole the things first myself,” she said, sharply.
“No, I do not trouble myself to think of anything that has not taken the form of evidence,” said the judge, smiling with an expression that Madame liked still less than the first; “to-morrow we will look into the case, if you appear against the woman.”
“But you will lock her up—you will not allow her to go home?” cried the old woman, eagerly; “she will hide my diamonds away, and I shall never see them again!”
The magistrate waved his hand, as if to silence further speech, and writing on a slip of paper, handed it to the officer.
“Come,” said the officer, touching Jane.
The woman turned sharply upon him.