She leaned her forehead on her white hand, and her face seemed slowly to fill with intellectual power.
“That man,” said she at last, “is the only link between him and me. I must speak to him.”
Then she thought again.
“No, not yet. He must be detained in the house. Letters may come to him, and their postmarks may give us some clew.”
“I'll recommend the house to him.”
“Oh, that is not necessary. He will lodge here of his own accord. Does he know you?”
“I think not.”
“Do not give him the least suspicion that you know he is a detective.”
“All right, I won't.”
“If he sounds you about the money, say nobody knows much about it, except Mademoiselle Klosking. If you can get the matter so far, come and tell me. But be you very reserved, for you are not clear.”